■r': ■ 









> > > > , 

> > } > _ 

> ^> > > 

> :> > # > 



>5 > > 
>:> :> :> 



»> 3> > >> 









?# 












: t^> ^^ w 
i £:> i>^ >? ? 






- > oil »> xsxo u 






> So )^E> 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. # 

I — ■ , # 

I <£%e// n.J- ' $ 

I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. J 









3D38D) 



^ ) 3 zs»3 



>33 3 3> 

> > "j> >x^ 






^ ? >^ ^^^§ 












3) ^ 

>) 2> >3 - J> 



& 






3^>3; ) 
3> 3 3 ^ > 
3333 > 



3 3>3 

> ^> ^> 

3 33 ) 

3 >3 > 

>333 3 

" >^> 
>» J> 

j> )3 31 

3 )3 > 
>3333> 



V» 3»333 
• 3<333 



>.i» »3> >""- 

3>> > v 3> > ; 

33 3>3> 3 33 

.» )& > J* «• , 

7X»»^ 7X» > -^ » 

33 33:» >:>3 : 



33 3g; 

>73>33 3>5*.si 

> 3x>3 3» t»» >3§»> »>o 32>>> 

3 3>1>Z^5^ P3>B>I 

3 3*33 ;j»> j£^ )3>) 3» 3>)3 „ 

> 3>» J~ 

3 333 „ 
3 333 



3%_T 



^3 3 ^ 3 3 3 2 
> 33 3 ) 3 S> 3 3 

SvS*© > 3 3 3 -< 

, >3V5> > 3 33 33 

3 3 3>3 > 3 3 3 3 3 
>j>. > 3v3-> .> 3 3> 
3. 3 5D> > 3 33_ 33 
) 5. -O 3 3 3 3 3 

j> i ?>} ) - 
> ) >3 5 



3"S>3 < •■ ;> 3,<> * 
. )333» ,v> ^}- 

333 03 >r 

>»>3» ■>: >.>_> j> >~ 
>315> > )Y3 3^ 

" rgg» ^&33 Sgr. 

: 3 3 33J^>3 '^>W* )>-))3>i 
^> .) ^'3^» 3» ^»?:iS*' 0»>3>>5 

5>~> 3 >:Of»^35> ^>>B^ ))^3> 



scaopr^ofc ^►^^3-3533 



^M^SF^>^ 



3 j> 



y ^ "3^»a> oo» '3»xo>- >- ->-^^>->>: 
> > ^^^Sl. ^** ~ : *^» "-> >- > >'>^^_ 

>3 »> 3 ^2»^ »" )f ^ > >333»"3 

-- 3 y 13Rf''- r i>^> ^ > ^ 3> 3..>» t>' >.»S*> 3* .: 
>0)'d3 3 3 3Bi>>Or>^>^> 3 »2» ">3 V \>) 3e " 
>^>>333? 33 TH>; :^3"^!> 3 33^ 33 ^)'> 

' 33-CTS53 i>9>^ 3»3> ^ >> ^ JDJj^T 

53^3333 ■ >333^>3 ,3 »3> 35^1>; _ 

- > >j>3CS> "> -' >T> 3> l|p> 3 3 J.' i 33 X>" S|j "3> > 

2»3> 3^~53» 3 >)>3^) 33133 3) 3DV> : 

>;> » ^3.2»JX» > ^J»3>3;) 332330 3)>23>J : 

■>^2>3»3 3333 3»333 3>3>': 



3^3 ) )3 
»3^.» 



>3ij» 3 3 3 n r 

>>" ;3£3> l> 3353^3: 

33 ^»3 3 33^rS-33$3i' 



3 3 3„ 
^>3 >_ 

J>>3^, 



3333 33 
33> »^> 

3i333» 

J2>3 J> 

«^ :^^ 

y> 3 3^ 

3> 3" 



7>v^3> 3 >3 .: 
33>B» 3 3D - 
"3C>5>^)3 >3 : 
>vOj 3 i.j> .3> 
»^>3 ~>3 3 
o » > •> > ^> 

»3>_3 33 3 
• ■ y> > ■> >^> -> -> 



> 3 33*) 3 3>5>> 

3:>3>^>3?;i>3 

^> ~>>y> > »^_> - 

> > 3>3> ^> 3)2>3 
) 3 )^^3 3J333 

> 3 5333 3 33333 
.3> X>» .3 J»ys>> : 
3 3>^. J> 3> 3> 3 

3 3> 3 333 3 2 



^3 33t>>~> s 
ff> > 33 T>>~3 
?»3 33^>3> 

33>3 333>3 
v> 3 33>2E» 



3 3 3 

/3 3 ■ ) 


3) Jl 


► >33 > 3) 

» 333 3 3 


^ 333£> : 


) 3> 3 3 


33 ^ZB 


► 3 1>3 3 \3 


-33) 


>"» 3D 


3) J^B 


► 3 iO 3\3> 


~> 3»0 J 


>3 3 3 


>0 ""^^B 


P» - 7 >3> 3>'' 3» 


3»3 


1 ) ' ~> ; 3 ; > 


^^ ~-^B 


» ) v3 Z» 31 


> 33>3 . 


1 v. ""^ "^» ~> 


3> ^^B 


&3 3 3»-3 


ft 330 


% ]> 3 3 


-~5> ^ 




7> 3)>3 


> i za 3 ) 


3> "2 


fc^^ ; 


> 7i 7033 
^> -333 


>3^ 3 > 


3> "Z 


S>3 > ^ 


> 3> 


SR3 3 ^ 


3> 3 33 
1> 333 


)>!> 3 j 


► 3 


>> > 3 3 


3 


/J^3 3 '3 3^ 


2» 33^ 


^ j> 3 3 3 


> S 


"3^3 ^ 3 ^3P 


3> 333 


-*->■> 


-» -^ 


bm» 3 3K> 


■» >3»i) 



3>)3>3 ^ 
>»~ 
»3i 
33)3": 
333_ 
33533S3 
33 



3KK? 



»5> 3 3:3 .- 

3 33 3 33I 

533 333 33 3 
)3>3 33.3 3 3 3 

> 3 333 3 333. 
'3 33333 3' 



.' 3 3Xf1> ^ 3> 33) 33 3 ) > 3 
)33)S3>3)'» 3>3 3 
v. 3 3V)3>3"3» 3 ) 33 33 )3 
Js 3 3333>3 3> 3> 3 5 3 3---3 v> 3 
3>33 33 33>3^ >3 33^3 



THE MONITOR; 

OR, 

USEFUL EXTRACTS 

OX 

MORAL AND RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS, 



BY 

WILLIAM HUMBLE. 



The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge. — Prov. i. 7. 

In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. — Prov. iii. fi. 

I will walk within my house with a perfect heart. — Psalm ci. 2. 



LONDON 



PRINTED FOR C. AND J. RIVINGTON, ST. PAUL S CHURCH YARD, 

AND WATERLOO PLACE, PALL MALL ; AND 

C. S. ARNOLD, TAVISTOCK STREET, CO VENT GARDEN. 



182.T. 






C. aud C. Wbitffngham, College House, Chiswick. 



PREFACE. 



During the necessarily many un- 
occupied hours which present them- 
selves in the course of an Indian 
voyage, the Compiler of the follow- 
ing sheets conceived he could not 
more usefully employ his time than 
in selecting from various esteemed 
Authors such extracts as, by being 
brought together within the com- 
pass of a small volume, might be 
generally accessible, and not alto-' 
gether unserviceable, to his friends 
and the public at large. The labour 
of compilation has certainly not 
been considerable, the principal 
.difficulty consisting in the neces- 
sity of omitting, rather than ex- 



IV PREFACE. 

trading, much useful matter- The 
sincere desire of the Compiler is, 
that the work may not be found 
entirely unworthy of the extensive 
patronage it has received. 

The extracts are suited to per- 
sons of all ages, but particularly to 
youth, and are well adapted to the 
use of schools for Sunday reading ; 
and in case of sufficient orders be- 
ing received, a cheap edition will 
be published for this purpose, con- 
taining fifty additional pages. 

With respect to the extracts from 
Dr. Porteus's valuable Lectures, it 
is strongly recommended to every 
one, where convenient, to have the 
originals. 



CONTENTS. 



Lcct. Author. Page 

1. Introductory Lecture on the Holy 

Scriptures Porteus. 1 

2. On the Ten Commandments Gilpin. 7 

RELATIVE DUTIES. 

3. Belief of God Gilpin. 9 

4. Worship and Honour of God 16 

5. Honour due to God's Word 22 

6. Duties to particular Persons 26 

7. Duty to Teachers and Instructors 30 

8. Behaviour to Superiors 33 

9. Against wronging our Neighbour by in- 

jurious Words 36 

10. Against wronging our Neighbour by in- 

jurious Actions 43 

11. Duties to Ourselves 49 

12. On Coveting other Men's Goods 56 

13. On the Sacrament of Baptism 64 

14. On the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. 66 

15. The Lord's Prayer Paraphrased Porteus. 73 

16. Bad Company Gilpin. 16 

17. Ridicule one of the chief Arts of Corrup- 

tion 82 

18. Religion our best and only Support in 

cases of real Stress. Sterne. 87 

19. On the Death of the Princess Charlotte Laze. 9 1 



vi ( ONTENTS. 

Lect. Author. Page 

20. Gospel Information most desirable . . . Sherlock. 98 

21. Omniscience and Omnipresence of the 

Deity Spectator. 105 

22. Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn 

from the Omniscience and Omni- 
presence of the Deity ] 10 

23. The Importance of Time, and the pro- 

per Methods of spending it 1 17 

24. Rules for the Knowledge of One's Self. 124 

25. Early Piety .. . . Blair. 129 

26. Consolation of Religion under Trials. 131 

27. Gentleness ] 34 



THE GOSPEL OF ST. MATTHEW. 

28. Chap. 3. History and Doctrine of John 

the Baptist Porteus. 138 

29- Chap. 4. Beginning of Miracles • 150 

30. Chap. 5. Our Lord's Sermon on the 

Mount 1 59 

31. Chap. 6 and 7. Continuation of ditto. . 170 

32. Chap. 13. Parable of the Sower ex- 

plained 183 

33. Chap. 13. Parable of the Tares 191 

34. Chap. 17- Transfiguration of Christ. . 210 

35. Chap. 18. Parable of the unforgiving 

Servant 224 

36. Chap. 19. Means of attaining eternal 

Life, Difficulty of a rich Man enter- 

tering the Kingdom of Heaven .... ■ 238 

37. Chap. 26. Institution of the Lord's 

Supper, our Lord's Agony in the 

Garden, &c 250 



CONTENTS. Vil 

Lcct. Author. Page 

38. Chap. 27. Christ tried, condemned, 

and crucified Porteus. 267 

39. Chap. 27 and 28. Doctrine of Redemp- 

tion, Burial, and Resurrection of our 

blessed Lord £82 

Memoir of Herman Boerhaave, the cele- 
brated Physician 'Encyclopedia. 298 

POETRY. 

The Fireside Cotton. 303 

On Slander 305 

Content 306 

Presumption of depending on To-morrow.. Young. 306 

Procrastination 307 

Avarice of Time recommended 307 

Waste of Time 308 

Conscience 308 

Death of the good Man 308 

Death desirable to the Aged 309 

Truth 310 

Power of Example, 310 

Little Attention paid to the Warnings of 

Death 3 1 1 

Universal Power of Death 3 1 1 

Exalted Station 312 

Virtue and Piety 312 

Resources of a dejected Mind 313 

The Last Day 313 

The Unreasonableness of Complaint 314 

Contemplation of the Heavens 314 

The Misery of Sin 3 J 5 

Solitude 315 



fill CONTENTS. 

Author. Page 

The Pious Petition Young. 316 

Reflections on a future State, from a Re- 
view of Winter Thomson. 316 

On the Immortality of the Soul Jenyns. 317 

Suicide Porteus. 3 1 8 

Hymn to Humanity Langhorne. 318 

Resignation to the Will of God Thomson. 320 

The Fall of Man Porteus. 321 

Intemperance 32 1 

Hymn on the Seasons Thomson. 322 

Omnipresence of God, from Psalm 139. • Pitt. 323 

On the Deity , Boyse. 324 

Omnipresence 325 

Immutability 326 

Wisdom 327 

Providence 328 

Goodness ■ 329 

Invitation 331 

Glory 332 

The Day of Judgment Glynn. 333 



INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 

ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 

The Bible is not indeed a plan of religion 
delineated with minute accuracy to instruct 
men as in something altogether new, or to 
excite a vain admiration and applause ; but 
it is somewhat unspeakably more great and 
noble, comprehending in the grandest and 
most magnificent order, along with every 
essential of that plan, the various dispensa- 
tions of God to mankind, from the formation 
of this earth to the consummation of all 
things. Other books may afford us much 
entertainment and much instruction ; may 
gratify our curiosity, may delight our imagi- 
nation, may improve our understandings, 
may calm our passions, may exalt our senti- 
ments, may even improve our hearts : but 
they have not, they cannot have that au- 
thority in what they affirm, in what they 
require, in what they promise and threaten 
that the Scriptures have. There is a peculiar 



2 ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. L. I. 

weight and energy in them, which is not to 
be found in any other writings. Their de- 
nunciations are more awful, their convictions 
stronger, their consolations more powerful, 
their counsels more authentic, their warnings 
more alarming, their expostulations more 
penetrating. There are passages in them 
throughout so sublime, so pathetic, full of 
such energy and force upon the heart and 
conscience, yet without the least appearance 
of labour and study for that purpose ; indeed 
the design of the whole is so noble, so well 
suited to the sad condition of human kind; 
the morals have in them such purity and 
dignity; the doctrines, so many of them 
above reason, yet so perfectly reconcilable 
with it ; the expression is so majestic, yet 
familiarized with such easy simplicity, that 
the more we read and study these writings 
with suitable dispositions and judicious atten- 
tion, the more we shall see and feel of the 
hand of God in them. But that which 
stamps upon them the highest value, that 
which renders them, strictly speaking, in- 
estimable, and distinguishes them from all 
other books in the world, is this, that they, 
and they only, " contain the words of eter- 



ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 8 

nal life." In this respect, every other book, 
even the noblest compositions of man, must 
fail us, they cannot give us that which we 
most want, and what is of infinitely more 
importance to us than all other things put 
together, eternal life. This we must look for 
no where but in Scripture. It is there, and 
there only, that we are informed, from 
authority, of the immortality of the soul, of 
a genera] resurrection from the dead, of a 
future judgment, of a state of eternal happi- 
ness to the good, and of eternal misery to 
the bad. It is there we are informed of the 
fall of our first parents from a state of inno- 
cence and happiness; with the guilt, cor- 
ruption, and misery which this sad event 
brought on all their posterity ; which, to- 
gether with their own personal and volun- 
tary transgressions, rendered them obnoxious 
to God's severest punishments. But, to our 
inexpressible comfort, we are farther told in 
this divine book that God is full of mercy, 
compassion, and goodness; that he is not 
extreme to mark what is done amiss ; that 
he willeth not the death of a sinner, but 
rather that he should turn from his wicked- 
ness, and save his soul alive. In pity, there- 
in 



A ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. L. 1. 

fore, to mankind, he was pleased to provide 
a remedy for their dreadful state. He was 
pleased to adopt a measure which should at 
once satisfy his justice, show his extreme 
abhorrence of sin, make a sufficient atone- 
ment for the sins of the whole world, and 
release all who accepted the terms proposed 
to them from the punishment they had de- 
served. This was nothing less than the 
death of his son Jesus Christ, whom he sent 
into the world to take our nature upon him, 
to teach us a most holy, pure, and benevo- 
lent religion, to reform us both by his pre- 
cepts asld example ; and, lastly, to die for 
our sins, and to rise again for our justifica- 
tion. By him and his evangelists and apos- 
tles we are assured, that if we sincerely 
repent of our sins, and firmly believe in him 
and his gospel, we shall, for the sake of his 
sufferings and his righteousness, have all our 
transgressions forgiven and blotted out, shall 
be justified, that is considered as innocent in 
the sight of God, shall have the assistance of 
his Holy Spirit for our future conduct ; and 
if we persevere to the end in a uniform 
(though from the infirmity of our nature im- 
perfect) obedience to all the laws of Christ, 



ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. D 

shall, through his merits, be rewarded with 
everlasting glory in the life to come. 

Since then the utility, the absolute neces- 
sity of reading the Scriptures is so great, 
since they are not only the best guide you 
can consult, but the only one that can possi- 
bly lead you to heaven ; it becomes the in- 
dispensable duty of every one most carefully 
and constantly to peruse these sacred ora- 
cles, that you may thereby " become per- 
fect, thoroughly furnished to every good 
work." They who have much leisure should 
employ a considerable portion of it in this 
holy exercise, and even those who are most 
immersed in business have, or ought to have, 
the Lord's Day entirely to spare, and should 
always employ some part of it in reading 
and meditating on the word of God. By 
persevering steadily in this practice, every 
one may, in no great length of time, read 
the Scriptures through, from one end to the 
other. But in doing this it will be advis- 
able to begin with the New 7 Testament, and 
to read it over most frequently, because it 
concerns us Christians the more nearly, and 
explains to us more fully and more clearly 
the words of eternal life. But after you 



6 ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. L. I. 

have once gone regularly through both the 
Old Testament and the New, it may then 
be most useful, perhaps, to select out of each 
such passages as lay before you the great 
fundamental doctrines, and most essential 
duties of your Christian profession, and even 
among these, to dwell the longest on such 
as express these things in the most awful 
and striking manner, such as affect and 
touch you most powerfully, such as make 
your heart burn within you, and stir up all 
the pious affections in your soul. But it 
will be of little use to read, unless at the 
same time also you reflect : unless you apply 
what you read to those great purposes which 
the Scriptures were meant to promote, the 
amendment of your faults, the improvement 
of your hearts, and the salvation of your 
souls. 



LECTURE II. 

ON THE COMMANDMENTS. 

The commandments are of such importance 
that, let our faith be what it will, unless it in- 
fluence our lives, it will be of no value; at 
the same time, if it be what it ought to be, 
it will certainly have this influence. 

On this head the ten commandments are 
first placed before us; and though we can- 
not call the decalogue a complete rule of 
duty, we accept it with the utmost rever- 
ence, as the first great written law that ever 
God communicated to man. We consider 
it as an eternal monument inscribed by the 
linger of God himself; not defining the 
minutiae of morals, but enjoining those great 
duties only which have the most particular 
influence upon the happiness of society; and 
prohibiting those enormous crimes which are 
the greatest sources of its distress. 

The ten commandments are divided into 
two parts, from their being originally written 
upon two tables ; the four first are contained 



8 ON THE COMMANDMENTS. L. II. 

in the first table; the remaining six in the 
second. 

At the head of them stands a prohibition 
to acknowledge more than one God. 

The second commandment bears a near 
relation to the first, and forbids idolatry. 

The third commandment enjoins rever- 
ence to God's name. This is a strong reli- 
gious restraint in private life, and as a solemn 
oath is the strictest obligation among men, 
nothing can be of greater service to society 
than to hold it in general respect. 

The fourth commands the observance of 
the Sabbath, as one of the best means of 
preserving a sense of God and of religion in 
the minds of men. 

The second table begins with enjoining 
obedience to parents. 

The five next commandments are prohi- 
bitions of the most capital crimes, which 
pollute the heart of man, and injure the 
peace of society. 

The seventh commandment forbids adul- 
tery; the black infidelity and injury which 
accompany this crime, the confusion in fami- 
lies which often succeeds it, and the general 
tendency it hath to destroy all the domestic 



ON THE COMMANDMENTS. 9 

happiness of society, stain it with a very high 
degree of guilt. 

The security of our property is the object 
of the eighth commandment. 

The security of our characters is the object 
of the ninth. 

The tenth restrains us not only from the 
actual commission of sin, but from those bad 
inclinations which give it birth. 



LECTURE III. 

RELATIVE DUTIES. 

After the commandments, let us consider 
" our duty to God" and " our duty to our 
neighbour;" the latter of which might more 
properly be entitled " our duty to our neigh- 
bour and to ourselves." These seem in- 
tended as an explanation of the command- 
ments upon Christian principles, with the 
addition of other duties which do not pro- 
perly fall under them. On these we shall 
be more large. 

The first part of our duty to God is to be- 
lieve in him, which is the foundation of all 



10 RELATIVE DUTIES. L. III. 

religion, and therefore offers itself first to our 
consideration. 

BELIEF OF GOD. 

The being of a God is one of those truths 
which scarce require proof; a proof seems 
rather an injury, as it supposes doubt ; how- 
ever as young minds are uninformed, we 
select, out of a variety of arguments, two or 
three of the most simple. 

We prove the being of a God, first from 
the creation of the world ; the world must 
have been produced either by chance or de- 
sign ; let us see with which of these charac- 
ters it is impressed. 

The characteristic of the works of design 
is a relation of parts, in order to produce an 
end; the characteristic of the works of chance 
is just the reverse. When we see stones 
answering each other, laid in the form of a 
regular building, we immediately say they 
were put together by design ; but if we see 
them thrown about in a disorderly heap, we 
say as confidently they have been thrown so 
by chance. 

Now in the world, and all its appendages, 
there is plainly this appearance of design; 



RELATIVE DUTIES. 11 

one part relates to another, and the whole 
together produces an end. 

Nor is design shown only in the grand 
fabric of the world, and all its relative appen- 
dages; it is equally shown in every part. It 
is seen in every animal, in every vegetable. 
In the least as well as the greatest of nature's 
productions, it is every where apparent. 

If then the world, and every part of it, 
are thus marked with the character of de- 
sign, there can be no difficulty in acknow- 
ledging the author of such design. 

The argument drawn from the preserva- 
tion of the world is indeed rather the last 
argument advanced a step farther. 

If chance could be supposed to produce a 
regular form, yet it is certainly beyond the 
highest degree of credulity to suppose it could 
continue this regularity for any time. The 
sun's action upon the earth hath ever been 
regular, the production of trees, plants, and 
herbs hath ever been uniform. Every seed 
now produces the same fruit it ever did. 
Every species of animal life is still the same. 
Could chance continue this regular arrange- 
ment ? Could any thing continue it, but the 
hand of an omnipotent God ? 



12 RELATIVE DUTIES. L. III. 

Lastly, we see this great truth, the being 
of a God, witnessed by the general consent 
of mankind. It can scarce be supposed that 
all mankind, in different parts of the world, 
should agree in the belief of a thing which 
never existed. 

The atheist's great argument, indeed, 
against a Deity, is levelled at the apparent 
injustice of his government. It was an ob- 
jection of ancient date, and might have had 
its weight in heathen times; but it is one of 
the blessings which attend Christianity, that 
it satisfies all our doubts on this head. What 
if we observe an inaccurate distribution of 
the things of this world ? What if virtue be 
depressed, and vice triumphant ? It is no- 
thing, says the voice of religion, to him who 
believes this life to be an inconsiderable part 
of his being; who believes he is sent into 
this world merely to prepare himself for a 
better. This world, he knows, is intended 
neither for reward nor punishment. Happi- 
ness unquestionably attends virtue even here, 
and misery vice ; but it is not the happiness 
of a splendid station, but of a peaceful mind; 
nor is it the misery of low circumstances, 
but of a guilty conscience. 



RELATIVE DUTIES. 13 

But for just notions of the Deity we must 
have recourse to revelation alone. Revela- 
tion removes all absurdities which have pre- 
vailed on the subject. It dispels the clouds 
of ignorance, and unveils the Divine Majes- 
ty, as far as it can be the object of human 
contemplation. Here we are informed of 
the omniscience and omnipresence of God. 
Here we learn that his wisdom and power 
are equalled by his goodness, and that his 
mercy is over all his works. In short, we 
learn from revelation that we are in the 
hands of a being whose knowledge we can- 
not evade, and whose power we cannot re- 
sist; who is merciful and good to all his crea- 
tures ; and who will ever be ready to reward 
those who endeavour to conform themselves 
to his will ; but whose justice, at the same 
time accompanying his mercy, will punish 
the bold and careless sinner in proportion to 
his guilt. 

The next branch of our duty to God is to 
fear him. The fear of God is impressed 
equally upon the righteous man and the 
sinner; but the fear of the sinner consists 
only in the dread of punishment. It is the 
necessary consequence of guilt ; and is not 



14 RELATIVE DUTIES. L. III. 

that fear which we consider as a duty. The 
fear of God here meant consists in that reve- 
rential awe, that constant apprehension of 
his presence, which secures us from offend- 
ing him. If a sense of the divine presence 
hath such an influence over us as to check 
the bad tendency of our thoughts, words, 
and actions, we may properly be said to be 
impressed with the fear of God. If not, we 
neglect one of the best means of checking 
vice which the whole circle of religious re- 
straint affords. 

The next duty to God is that of love, 
which is founded upon his goodness to his 
creatures; even this world, mixed as it is 
with evil, exhibits various marks- of the 
goodness of the Deity. Most men, indeed, 
place their affections too much upon it, and 
rate it at too high a value ; but, in the opinion 
even of wise men, it deserves some estima- 
tion. 

Let this world, however, go for little. In 
contemplating a future life, the enjoyments 
of this are lost. It is in the contemplation of 
futurity that the Christian views the good- 
ness of God in the fullest light. When he 
sees the Deity engaging himself by covenant 



RELATIVE DUTIES. 15 

to make our short abode here a preparation 
for our eternal happiness hereafter; when he 
is assured that this happiness is not only 
eternal, but of the purest and most perfect 
kind ; when he sees God, as a father, open- 
ing all his stores of love and kindness, to 
bring back to himself a race of creatures 
fallen from their original perfection, and 
totally lost through their own folly, per- 
verseness, and wickedness ; then it is that 
the evils of life seem as atoms in the sun- 
beam ; the divine nature appears overflow- 
ing with goodness to mankind, and calls 
forth every exertion of our gratitude and 
love. 

There remains one farther consideration 
with regard to the love of God, and that is 
the measure of it. We are told we ought to 
love him " with all our heart, with all our 
soul, and with all our strength ;" these are 
strong expressions, and seem to imply a 
greater warmth of affection than many peo- 
ple may perhaps find they can exert. The 
affections of some are naturally cool, and 
little excited by any objects. The guilty 
person is he whose affections are warm in 
every thing but religion. The obvious mean- 



If) 



RELATIVE DUTIES. L. Ill 



ing, therefore, of the expression is, that 
whether our affections are cool or warm, 
we should make God our chief good; that 
we should set our affections more upon him 
than upon any thing else, and that for his 
sake, and for the sake of his laws, we should 
be ready to resign every thing we have, and 
even life itself. 



LECTURE IV. 

WORSHIP AND HONOUR OF GOD. 

Our next duty to God is, to worship him, 
to give him thanks, to put our whole trust in 
him, and to call upon him. 

Since the observance of the Sabbath is 
founded upon many wise and just reasons, 
what have they to answer for who not only 
neglect this institution themselves, but bring 
it, by their example, into contempt with 
others ? I speak not to those who make it a 
day of common diversion; who, laying aside 
all decency, and breaking through all civil 
and religious regulations, spend it in the 
most licentious amusements: such people 



WORSHIP, ETC. OF GOD. 1? 

are past all reproof; but I speak to those 
who in other things profess themselves to be 
serious people; and, one might hope, would 
act rightly when they were convinced what 
was so. 

But our prayers, whether in public or in 
private, are only an idle parade, unless we 
put our trust in God. 

By putting our trust in God, is meant de- 
pending upon him as our happiness and our 
refuge. 

Nothing in this world is a sufficient foun- 
dation for trust: nor, indeed, can any thing 
be so but Almighty God, who affords the 
only means of happiness, and is our only 
real refuge in distress. 

On him, the more we trust, the greater 
we shall feel our security ; and that man 
who has, on just religious motives, confirmed 
in himself this trust, wants nothing else to 
secure his happiness. The world may wear 
what aspect it will; it is not on it that he 
depends. As far as prudence goes, he en- 
deavours to avoid the evils of life ; but when 
they fall to his share (as sooner or later we 
must all share them), he resigns himself into 
the hands of that. God who made him, and 

c 



18 WORSHIP AND L. IV. 

who knows best how to dispose of him. On 
him he thoroughly depends, and with him 
he has a constant intercourse by prayer; 
trusting that whatever happens is agreeable 
to that just government which God has 
established, and that of consequence it must 
be best. 

We are enjoined " to honour God's holy 
name." 

The name of God is accompanied with 
such ideas of greatness and reverence, that 
it should never pass our lips without sug- 
gesting those ideas. Indeed it should never 
be mentioned but with a kind of awful 
hesitation, and on the most solemn occasions; 
either in serious discourse, or when we in- 
voke God in prayer, or when we swear by 
his name. 

In this last light we are here particularly 
enjoined to honour the name of the Lord. 
A solemn oath is an appeal to God himself, 
and is entitled to our utmost respect, if 
only in a political light; as in all human 
concerns it is the strongest test of veracity, 
and has been approved as such by the wis- 
dom of all nations. 

An oath, therefore, taken in a solemn 



HONOUR OF GOD. 19 

manner, and on a proper occasion, may be 
considered as one of the highest acts of 
religion; so perjury, or false swearing, is 
certainly one of the highest acts of impiety, 
and the greatest dishonour we can show to 
the name of God. It is in fact either deny- 
ing our belief in a God, or his power to 
punish. Other crimes wish to escape the 
notice of heaven ; this is daring the Almighty 
to his face. 

After perjury, the name of God is most 
dishonoured by the horrid practice of cursing. 
Its effects in society, it is true, are not so 
mischievous as those of perjury ; nor is it so 
deliberate an act; but yet it conveys a still 
more horrible idea. Indeed, if there be one 
wicked practice more peculiarly diabolical 
than another, it is this. If this shocking 
vice were not so dreadfully familiar to our 
ears, it could not fail to strike us with the 
utmost horror. 

We next consider common swearing ; a 
sin so universally practised, that one would 
imagine some great advantage, in the way 
either of pleasure or profit, attended it. The 
wages of iniquity afford some temptation : 
but to commit sin without any temptation 

c 2 



20 WORSHIP AND L. IV. 

is a strange species of infatuation. May we 
then ask the common swearer what the 
advantages are which arise from this prac- 
tice ? 

Some forward youth may think that an 
oath adds an air and spirit to his discourse, 
that it is manly and important, and gives 
him consequence. We may whisper one 
secret in his ear, which he may be assured is 
a truth : these airs of manliness give him 
consequence only with those whose com- 
mendation is disgrace : others, he only con- 
vinces at how early an age he wishes to be 
thought profligate. 

Common swearing leads to perjury. He 
who is addicted to swear on every trifling 
occasion, cannot but often, I had almost said 
unavoidably, give the sanction of an oath to 
an untruth. 

Common swearing is an act of great 
irreverence to God ; and, as such, implying 
also a great indifference to religion. If we 
lose our reverence for God, it is impossible 
we can retain it for his laws. 

But above all, we should be deterred from 
common swearing by the positive command 
of our Saviour, which is founded unques- 



HONOUR OF GOD. 21 

tionably upon the wickedness of the prac- 
tice : " You have heard," said Christ, " that 
it hath been said of them of old time, thou 
shall not forswear thyself; but I say unto 
you, swear not at all ; neither by heaven, for 
it is God's throne, neither by the earth, for 
it is his footstool ; but let your communica- 
tion" (that is your ordinary conversation) 
" be yea, yea, nay, nay ; for whatsoever is 
more than these cometh of evil." 

I shall just add, before I conclude this 
subject, that two things are to be avoided, 
which are very nearly allied to swearing. 

The first is, the use of light exclamations 
and invocations upon God, on every trivial 
occasion. We cannot have much rever- 
ence for God, when we treat his name in so 
familiar a manner; and may assure our- 
selves that we are indulging a practice which 
must weaken impressions that ought to be 
preserved as strongly as possible. 

Secondly, such light expressions and wan- 
ton phrases, as sound like swearing, are to 
be avoided, and are often therefore indulged 
by silly people, for the sake of the sound; 
who think (if they think at all) that they 
add to their discourse the spirit of sw r earing 



22 HONOUR DUE TO L. V. 

without the guilt of it. Such people had 
better lay aside, together with swearing, 
every appearance of it. These appearances 
may both offend and mislead others ; and, 
with regard to themselves, may end in re- 
alities : at least they show an inclination to 
swearing; and an inclination to vice in- 
dulged is really vice. 



LECTURE V, 



HONOUR DUE TO GOD'S WORD— WHAT IT IS 
TO SERVE GOD TRULY, ETC. 

As we are enjoined to honour God's holy 
name, so are we enjoined also " to honour 
his holy word/' 

By God's holy word, we mean the Old 
Testament and the New. 

The books of the Old Testament open 
with the earliest accounts of time, earlier 
than any human records reach ; and yet, in 
many instances, they are strengthened by 
human records. 

In the history of the patriarchs is exhibited 
a most beautiful picture of the simplicity of 



god's word. 23 

ancient manners, and of genuine nature, un- 
adorned indeed by science, but impressed 
strongly with a sense of religion. 

The patriarchal history is followed by 
the Jewish ; here we find those types and 
representations which the apostle to the He- 
brews calls the shadow of good things to 
come. 

To these books, which contain the legis- 
lation and history of the Jews, succeed the 
prophetic writings. The office of the Mes- 
siah,, his ministry, his life, his actions, his 
death, and his resurrection, are all very dis- 
tinctly held out. 

To these books are added several others, 
poetical and moral, which administer much 
instruction and matter of meditation to de- 
vout minds. 

The New Testament contains, first, the 
simple history of Christ, as recorded in the 
four Gospels. In this history also are de- 
livered those excellent instructions which 
our Saviour occasionally gave his disciples, 
the precepts and the example blended to- 
gether. 

To the Gospels succeeds an account of 
the lives and actions of some of the principal 



24 HONOUR DUE TO L. V. 

apostles, together with the early state of the 
Christian church. 

The epistles of several of the apostles, 
particularly of St. Paul, to some of the newly 
established churches, make another part. 
Our Saviour had promised to endow his dis- 
ciples with power from on high, to complete 
the great work of publishing the Gospel, 
and in the epistles that work is completed. 
The truths and doctrines of the Christian 
religion are here still more unfolded and 
enforced, as the great scheme of our re- 
demption was now finished by the death of 
Christ. 

The sacred volume is concluded with the 
revelations of St. John; which are supposed 
to contain a prophetic description of the 
future state of the church. Some of these 
prophecies it is thought, on very good 
grounds, are already fulfilled; and others, 
which now, as sublime descriptions only, 
amuse our imaginations, will probably, in 
the future ages of the church, be the ob- 
jects of the understanding also. 

The last part of our duty to God is, " to 
serve him truly all the days of our life." 

To serve God truly all the days of our 



god's word. 25 

life implies two things: first, the mode of this 
service; and, secondly, the term of it. 

First, we must serve God truly. We must 
not rest satisfied with the outward action, 
but must take care that every action be 
founded on a proper motive. It is the mo- 
tive alone that makes an action acceptable 
with God. God requires the heart: he re- 
quires that an earnest desire of acting agree- 
ably to his will should be the general spring 
of our actions ; and this will give even an in- 
different action a value in his sight. 

As we are enjoined to serve God truly, so 
are we enjoined to serve him " all the days 
of our life." Human errors and frailties, 
we know, God will not treat with too severe 
an eye; but he who, in the general tenor of 
his life, does not keep advancing towards 
Christian perfection, but suffers himself, at 
intervals, entirely to lose sight of his calling, 
cannot be really serious in his profession ; he 
is at a great distance from serving God truly 
all the days of his life, and has no scriptural 
ground to hope much from the mercy of 
God. 

That man, whether placed in high estate 
or low, has reached the summit of human 



26 DUTY OF CHILDREN L. VI. 

happiness who is truly serious in the service 
of his great Master. The things of this 
world may engage, but cannot engross his 
attention ; its sorrows and its joys may affect, 
but cannot disconcert him. 

The world may sooth, or it may threaten 
him ; he perseveres steadily in the service of 
his God, and in that perseverance feels his 
happiness every day the more established. 



LECTURE VI. 

DUTY OF CHILDREN TO PARENTS, ETC. 

From the two grand principles of " loving 
our neighbour as ourselves," and " doing to 
others as we would have them do to us," 
which regulate our social intercourse in gene- 
ral, we proceed to those more confined du- 
ties which arise from particular relations, 
connections, and stations in life. 

Among these we are first taught, as in- 
deed the order of nature directs, to consider 
the great duty of children to parents. 

The two points to be insisted on, are re- 



TO PARENTS, ETC. 27 

spect and obedience. Both these should 
naturally spring from love, to which parents 
have the highest claim. 

But if the kindness of the parent be not 
such as to work upon the affections of the 
child, yet still the parent has a title to respect 
and obedience, on the principle of duty ; a 
principle which the word of God strictly 
commands. 

The child will show respect to his parent 
by treating him at all times with deference. 
He will consult his parent's inclination, and 
show a readiness, in a thousand nameless 
trifles, to conform himself to it. He will 
never peevishly contradict his parent; and 
when he offers a contrary opinion, he will 
offer it modestly. Respect will teach him 
also not only to put the best colouring upon 
the infirmities of his parent; but even if 
those infirmities be very great, it will soften 
and screen them, as much as possible, from 
the public eye. 

Obedience goes a step farther, and sup- 
poses a positive command. In things un- 
lawful, indeed, the parental authority cannot 
bind : but this is a case that rarely happens. 
The great danger is on the other side, that 



28 DUTY OF CHILDREN L. VI. 

children, through obstinacy or sullenness, 
should refuse their parents' lawful commands; 
to the observance of all which, however in- 
convenient to themselves, they are tied by 
various motives; and, above all, by the 
command of God, who, in his sacred denun- 
ciations against sin, ranks disobedience to 
parents among the worst. 

They are farther bound not only to obey 
the commands of their parents, but to obey 
them cheerfully. 

There remains still a third part of filial 
duty, which peculiarly belongs to children 
w r hen grown up. This the catechism calls 
succouring or administering to the necessities 
of the parent, either in the way of managing 
his affairs, when he is less able to manage 
them himself, or in supplying his wants, 
should he need assistance in that way. The 
hypocritical Jew would sometimes evade 
this duty, by dedicating to sacred uses what 
should have been expended in assisting his 
parent. Our Saviour sharply rebukes this 
perversion of duty ; and gives him to under- 
stand, that no pretence of serving God can 
cover the neglect of assisting a parent. And 
if no pretence of serving God can do it, 



TO PARENTS, ETC. 29 

surely every other pretence must still be 
more unnatural. 

Under this head, also, we may consider 
that attention and love which are due to 
other relations; especially that mutual affec- 
tion which should subsist among brothers. 

The name of brother expresses the highest 
degree of tenderness, and is generally used 
in Scripture as a term of peculiar endear- 
ment to call men to the practice of social 
virtue. It reminds them of every kindness 
which man can show to man. If, then, we 
ought to treat all mankind with the affection 
of brothers, in what light must they appear, 
who, being really such, are ever at variance 
with each other, continually doing spiteful 
actions, and showing, upon every occasion, 
not only a want of brotherly kindness, but 
even of common regard. 



>0 DUTY TO OUR 



LECTURE VII. 

DUTY TO OUR TEACHERS, ETC. 

By our " teachers, spiritual pastors, and 
masters/' are meant all those who have the 
care of our education, and of our instruction 
in religion; whom we are to obey and 
listen to with humility and attention, as the 
means of our advancement in knowledge 
and religion. 

The duty which young people owe to 
their instructors cannot be shown better than 
in the effect which the instructions they re- 
ceive have upon them. 

The great use of knowledge, in all its 
various branches, is to free the mind from 
the prejudices of ignorance. It is the im- 
provement of the mind chiefly that makes 
the difference between man and man, and 
gives one man a real superiority over an- 
other. 

Besides, the mind must be employed; a 
vacant mind is exactly that house men- 
tioned in the Gospel, which the devil found 



TEACHERS, ETC. 31 

empty. In he entered, and taking with him 
seven other spirits, more wicked than him- 
self, they took possession. It is an undoubted 
truth, that one vice indulged introduces 
others, and that each succeeding vice be- 
comes more depraved. 

If, then, the mind must be employed, 
what can fill up its vacuities more rationally 
than the acquisition of knowledge? 

Let us, therefore, thank God for the 
opportunities he hath afforded us, and not 
turn into a curse those means of leisure 
which might become so great a blessing. 

But however necessary to us knowledge 
may be, religion, we know, is infinitely more 
so. The one adorns a man, and gives him, 
it is true, superiority and rank in life; but 
the other is absolutely essential to his happi- 
ness. 

In the midst of youth, health, and abun- 
dance, the world is apt to appear a very gay 
and pleasing scene ; it engages our desires, 
and in a degree satisfies them also. But it 
is wisdom to consider that a time will come 
when youth, health, and fortune will all fail 
us : and if disappointment and vexation do 
not sour our taste for pleasure, at least sick- 



32 DUTY TO OUR L. VII. 

ness and infirmities will destroy it. In these 
gloomy seasons, and above all, at the ap- 
proach of death, what will become of us 
without religion ? When this world fails, 
where shall we fly, if we expect no refuge in 
another ? Without holy hope in God, and 
resignation to his will, and trust in him for 
deliverance, what is there that can secure 
us against the evils of life ? 

Youth is not more the season to acquire 
knowledge than to form religious habits. It 
is a great point to get habit on the side of 
virtue : it will make every thing smooth and 
easy. The earliest principles are generally 
the most lasting; and those of a religious 
cast are seldom wholly lost. Though the 
temptations of the world may, now and 
then, draw the well principled youth aside, 
3^et his principles being continually at war 
with his practice, there is hope that in the 
end the better part may overcome the worse, 
and bring on a reformation. 

To conclude, our youth bears the same 
proportion to our more advanced life as this 
world does to the next. In this life we must 
form and cultivate those habits of virtue 
which must qualify us for a better state. If 



TEACHERS, ETC. 33 

we neglect them here, and contract habits 
of an opposite kind, instead of gaining that 
exalted state which is promised to our im- 
provement, w T e shall of course sink into that 
state which is adapted to the habits we have 
formed. If we cultivate our minds in our 
youth, attain habits of attention and indus- 
try, of virtue and sobriety, we shall find our- 
selves well prepared to act our future parts 
of life; and what above all things ought to 
be our care, by gaining this command over 
ourselves, we shall be more able, as we get 
forward in the world, to resist every new 
temptation as it arises. 



LECTURE VIII. 

BEHAVIOUR TO SUPERIORS. 

We are enjoined " to order ourselves lowly 
and reverently to all our betters." 

By our betters are meant those who are in 
a superior station of life to our own ; and by 
" ordering ourselves lowly and reverently 
towards them," is meant paying them that 
respect which is due to their station. 

D 



34 BEHAVIOUR TO SUPERIORS. L. VIII. 

The word " betters," indeed, includes two 
kinds of persons to whom our respect is due, 
those who have a natural claim to it, and 
those who have an acquired one ; that is, a 
claim arising from some particular situation 
in life. 

Among the first are all our superior rela- 
tions who are in a line above us : all these 
have a natural claim to our respect. There 
is a respect also due from youth to age, 
which is always becoming, and tends to keep 
youth within the bounds of modesty. 

It is due also from juany other situations 
in life : employments, honours, and even 
wealth will exact it; and all may justly 
exact it in a proper degree. 

But it may here, perhaps, be inquired 
why God should permit this latter distinction 
among men ? 

Though we can but very inadequately 
trace the wisdom of God in his works, yet 
very wise reasons appear for this variety in 
the gifts of fortune. It seems necessary both 
in a civil and in a moral light. 

Providence, in scattering these various 
gifts, proposes ultimately the good of man, 
and it is our duty to acquiesce in this order, 



BEHAVIOUR TO SUPERIORS. 35 

and " to behave ourselves lowly and rever- 
ently (not with servility, but with a decent 
respect) to all our superiors." 

Before I conclude this subject it may be- 
proper to observe, in vindication of the ways 
of Providence, that we are not to suppose 
happiness and misery necessarily connected 
with riches and poverty. Each condition 
hath its particular sources both of pleasure 
and pain, unknown to the other. Those in 
elevated stations have a thousand latent 
pangs of which their inferiors have no idea ; 
while their inferiors again have as many 
pleasures which the others cannot taste. I 
speak only of such modes of happiness or 
misery as arise immediately from different 
stations. Of misery, indeed, from a variety 
of other causes, all men of every station are 
equal heirs; either when God lays his hand 
upon us in sickness or misfortune, or when 
by our own follies and vices we become the 
ministers of our own distress. 

Let each of us, then, do his duty in that 
station which Providence has assigned him; 
ever remembering that the next world will 
soon destroy all earthly distinctions. One 

d| 



\6 



AGAINST WRONGING L. IX. 



distinction only will remain among the sons 
of men at that time — the distinction be- 
tween good and bad ; and this distinction 
it is worth all our pains and all our am- 
bition to acquire. 



LECTURE IX. 

AGAINST WRONGING OUR NEIGHBOUR BY 
INJURIOUS WORDS. 

We are instructed " to hurt nobody by word 
or deed, to be true and just in all our deal- 
ings, to bear no malice nor hatred in our 
hearts, to keep our hands from picking and 
stealing, our tongues from evil speaking, 
lying, and slandering." 

The duties comprehended in these words 
are a little transposed; what should class 
under one head is brought under another. 
" To hurt nobody by word or deed" is the 
general proposition. The under parts should 
follow, first, " to keep the tongue from evil 
speaking, lying, and slandering ;" which is 
" to hurt nobody by word:" secondly, " to 



OUR NEIGHBOUR. 37 

be true and just in all our dealings/' and 
" to keep our hands from picking and steal- 
ing," which is " to hurt nobody by deed." 
As to the injunction, " to bear no malice 
nor hatred in our hearts/' it properly be- 
longs to neither of these heads, but is a dis- 
tinct one by itself. 

The duties being thus separated, I shall 
proceed to explain them. 

And, first, of injuring our neighbour by 
our " words." This may be done, we find, 
in three ways, " by evil speaking, by lying, 
and by slandering." 

By "evil speaking" is meant speaking 
ill of our neighbour, but upon a supposition 
that this ill is the truth. In some circum- 
stances it is certainly right to speak ill of our 
neighbour; as when we are called upon in 
a court of justice to give our evidence ; or 
when we can set any one right in his opinion 
of a person in whom he is about to put an 
improper confidence. Nor can there be any 
harm in speaking of a bad action, which has 
been determined in a court of justice, or is 
otherwise become notorious. 

But, on the contrary, it is highly disallow- 
able to speak wantonly of the characters of 



38 AGAINST WRONGING L. IX. 

others from common fame; because, in a 
thousand instances, we find that stories, 
which have no better foundation, are mis- 
represented. They are, perhaps, only half 
told ; they have been heard through the 
medium of malice or envy; some favour- 
able circumstance hath been omitted ; some 
foreign circumstance hath been added; some 
trifling circumstance hath been exaggerated; 
the motive, the provocation, or perhaps the 
reparation, hath been concealed : in short, 
the representation of the fact is, some way 
or other, totally different from the fact it- 
self. 

But even when we have the best evidence 
of a bad action, with all its circumstances 
before us, we surely indulge a very ill na- 
tured pleasure in spreading the shame of an 
offending brother. We can do no good, 
and we may do harm ; we may weaken his 
good resolutions by exposing him; we may 
harden him against the world. Perhaps it 
may be his first bad action. Perhaps no- 
body is privy to it but ourselves. Let us 
give him at least one trial. Let us not cast 
the first stone. Which of our lives could 
stand so strict a scrutiny? he only who is 



OUR NEIGHBOUR. 39 

without sin himself can have any excuse for 
treating his brother with severity. 

Let us next consider " lying," which is an 
intention to deceive by falsehood in our 
words. To warn us against lying we should 
do well to consider the folly, the meanness, 
and the wickedness of it. 

The folly of lying consists in its defeating 
its own purpose. A habit of lying is gene- 
rally in the end detected ; and after detec- 
tion the liar, instead of deceiving, will not 
even be believed when he happens to speak 
the truth. Nay, every single lie is attended 
with such a variety of circumstances which 
lead to a detection, that it is often discovered. 
The use generally made of a lie is to cover 
a fault, but as the end is seldom answered, 
we only aggravate what we wish to conceal. 
In point even of prudence an honest confes- 
sion would serve us better. 

The meanness of lying arises from the 
cowardice which it implies. We dare not 
boldly and nobly speak the truth ; but have 
recourse to low subterfuges, which always 
argue a sordid and disingenuous mind. 

The wickedness of lying consists in its 
perverting one of the greatest blessings of 



40 AGAINST WRONGING L. IX. 

God, the use of speech, in making that a 
mischief to mankind, which was intended 
for a benefit. Truth is the great bond of 
society. Falsehood, of course, tends to its 
dissolution 4 

An equivocation is nearly related to a lie. 
It is an intention to deceive under words of 
a double meaning, or words which, literally 
speaking, are true; and is equally criminal 
with the most downright breach of truth. 
When St. Peter asked Sapphira (in the fifth 
chapter of the Acts) "whether her husband 
had sold the land for so much ?" She an- 
swered he had : and literally she spoke the 
truth ; for he had sold it for that sum, in- 
cluded in a larger. But having an intention 
to deceive, we find the apostle considered 
the equivocation as a lie. 

In short, it is the intention to deceive 
which is criminal ; a nod, or sign, may con- 
vey a lie as effectually as the most deceitful 
language. 

Under the head of lying may be men- 
tioned a breach of promise. While a reso- 
lution remains in our own breasts it is subject 
to our own review; but when we make 
another person a party with us, an engage- 



OUR NEIGHBOUR. 41 

merit is made; and every engagement, 
though only of the slightest kind, should be 
punctually observed. If we have added to 
this engagement a solemn promise, the obli- 
gation is so much the stronger ; and he who 
does not think himself bound by such an 
obligation has no pretensions to the character 
of an honest man. A breach of promise is 
still worse than a lie : a lie is a breach of 
truth ; but a breach of promise is a breach 
both of truth and trust. 

Forgetfulness is a weak excuse : it only 
shows how little we are affected by so solemn 
an engagement. 

Having considered evil speaking and 
lying, let us next consider slandering. By 
slandering, we mean injuring our neighbour's 
character by falsehood. Here we still rise 
higher in the scale of injurious words. Slan- 
dering our neighbour is the greatest injury 
which words can do him; and is therefore 
worse than either evil speaking or lying. 
The mischief of this sin depends on the 
value of our characters. All men, unless 
they be past feeling, desire to be thought 
well of by their fellow creatures; a good 
character is one of the principal means of 



42 AGAINST WRONGING, ETC. 

being serviceable either to ourselves or others; 
and among numbers the very bread they eat 
depends upon it. What aggravated injury, 
therefore, do we bring upon every man whose 
name we slander. And what is still worse, 
the injury is irreparable. If you defraud a 
man, restore what you take, and the injury 
is repaired; but if you slander him, it is not 
in your power to shut up all the ears and all 
the mouths to which your tale may have 
access. The evil spreads like the winged 
seeds of some noxious plants, which scatter 
mischief on a breath of air, and disperse it on 
every side, and beyond prevention. 

Before we conclude this subject it may just 
be mentioned that a slander may be spread, 
as a lie may be told, in various ways. We 
may do it by an insinuation, as well as in a 
direct manner, we may spread it in a secret, or 
propagate it under the colour of friendship. 

I may add, also, that it is a species of 
slander, and often a very malignant one, to 
lesson the merits or exaggerate the failings 
of others; as it is likewise to omit defending 
a misrepresented character, or to let others 
bear the blame of our offences. 



43 



LECTURE X. 

AGAINST WRONGING OUR NEIGHBOUR BY 
INJURIOUS ACTIONS. 

Having thus considered injurious words, 
let us next consider injurious actions. On 
this head we are enjoined " to keep our 
hands from picking and stealing, and to be 
true and just in all our dealings/' 

As to theft, it is a crime of so odious and 
vile a nature that one would imagine no 
person who hath had the least tincture of a 
virtuous education, even though driven to 
necessity, could be led into it. I shall not, 
therefore, enter into a dissuasive from this 
crime; but go on with the explanation of 
the other part of the injunction, and to see 
what it is " to be true and just in all our 
dealings." 

Justice is even still more, if possible, the 
support of society than truth ; inasmuch as a 
man may be more injurious by his actions 
than by his words. 



44 AGAINST WRONGING L. X. 

We very much err if we suppose that 
every thing within the bounds of law is jus- 
tice. The law was intended only for bad 
men ; and it is impossible to make the meshes 
of it so strait, but that many very great enor- 
mities will escape. The well meaning man, 
therefore, knowing that the law was not 
made for him, consults a better guide, his 
own conscience, informed by religion. And 
indeed, the great difference between the 
good man and the bad consists in this : the 
good man will do nothing but what his con- 
science will allow, the bad man will do any 
thing which the law cannot reach. 

It would, indeed, be endless to describe 
the various ways in which a man may be 
dishonest within the limits of law. They 
are as various as our intercourse with man- 
kind. Some of the most obvious of them I 
shall cursorily mention. 

In matters of commerce the knave has 
many opportunities. The different qualities 
of the same commodity, the different modes 
of adulteration, the specious arts of vending, 
the frequent ignorance in purchasing, and a 
variety of other circumstances, open an end- 
less field to the ingenuity of fraud. The 



OUR NEIGHBOUR. 45 

honest, fair dealer, in the mean time, has 
only one rule, which is, that all arts, how- 
ever common in business, which are in- 
tended to deceive, are utterly unlawful. It 
may be added upon this head, that if any 
one, conscious of having been a transgressor, 
is desirous of repairing his fault, restitution is 
by all means necessary ; till that be done, he 
continues in a course of injustice. . 

It is an injustice to withhold a debt when 
we have ability to pay, or to run into debt 
when we have not that ability. The former 
can proceed only from a bad disposition ; 
the latter from suffering our desires to exceed 
our station. 

Oppression is another species of injustice, 
by which, in a thousand ways, under cover 
of law, we may take the advantage of the 
superiority of our power, either to crush an 
inferior or humble him to our designs. 

Ingratitude is another. A loan, we know, 
claims a legal return. And is the obligation 
less if* instead of a loan, you receive a kind- 
ness? The law, indeed, says nothing on 
this point of immorality ; but an honest con- 
science will be very loud in the condemna- 
tion of it, 



40 AGAINST WRONGING L. X. 

We may be unjust also in our resentment, 
by carrying it beyond what reason and 
religion prescribe. 

But it would be endless to describe the 
various ways in which injustice discovers 
itself. In truth, almost every omission of 
duty may be resolved into injustice. 

The next precept is " to bear no malice 
nor hatred in our hearts/' 

The malice and hatred of our hearts arise, 
in the first place, from injurious treatment; 
and surely no man when he is injured can at 
first help feeling that he is so. But Christi- 
anity requires that we should subdue these 
feelings as soon as possible, " and not suffer 
the sun to go down upon our wrath," Vari- 
ous are the passages of Scripture which in- 
culcate the forgiveness of injuries. Indeed 
no point is more laboured than this, and 
with reason, because no temper is more pro- 
ductive of evil, both to ourselves and others, 
than a malicious one. The sensations of a 
mind burning with revenge are beyond de- 
scription ; and as we are at these seasons 
very unable to judge coolly, and of course 
liable to carry our resentment too far, the 
consequence is that, in our rage, we may do 



OUR NEIGHBOUR. 47 

a thousand things which can never be 
atoned for, and of which we may repent as 
long as we live. 

Besides, one act draws on another, and 
retaliation keeps the quarrel alive. The 
gospel, therefore, ever gracious and kind to 
man, in all its precepts enjoins us to check 
all those violent emotions, and to leave our 
cause in the hands of God. " Vengeance is 
mine, I will repay, saith the Lord;" and he 
who, in opposition to this precept, takes 
vengeance into his hands, and cherishes the 
malice and hatred of his heart, may assure 
himself that he has not learned to be a 
Christian. 

But besides injurious treatment, the malice 
and hatred of our hearts have often another 
source, and that is envy : and thus in the 
Litany, " envy, malice, and hatred" are all 
joined together with great propriety. The 
emotions of envy are generally cooler and 
less violent than those which arise from the 
resentment of injury ; so that envy is seldom 
so mischievous in its effect as revenge; but 
with regard to ourselves it is altogether as 
bad, and full as destructive of the spirit of 
Christianity. What is the religion of that 



48 AGAINST WRONGING L. X. 

man, who, instead of thanking Heaven for 
the blessings he receives, is fretting himself 
continually with a disagreeable comparison 
between himself and some other ? He can- 
not enjoy what he has, because another has 
more wealth, a fairer fame, or perhaps more 
merit than himself. He is miserable, be- 
cause others are happy. 

What ignorance ! We see only the glaring 
outside of things. Under all that envied 
glare, many unseen distresses may lurk, 
from which our station may be free : for 
our merciful Creator seems to have be- 
stowed happiness, as far as station is con- 
cerned, with great equality among all his 
creatures. 

In conclusion, therefore, let it be the 
great object of our attention, and the sub- 
ject of our prayers, to rid our minds of all 
this intrusion of evil thoughts, whether they 
proceed from malice or from an envious 
temper. Let all our malicious thoughts 
soften into charity and benevolence; and 
let us " forgive one another, as God, for 
Christ's sake, has forgiven us." As for our 
envious thoughts, as far as they relate to 
externals, let them subside in humility, ac- 



OUR NEIGHBOUR. 49 

quiescence, and submission to the will of 
God. And when we are tempted to envy 
the good qualities of others, let us spurn so 
base a conception, and change into a gene- 
rous emulation — into an endeavour to raise 
ourselves to an equality with our rival, not 
to depress him to a level with us. 



LECTURE XL 

DUTIES TO OURSELVES. 

Thus far, the duties we have considered 
come most properly under the head of those 
which we owe to our neighbour; what fol- 
low relate rather to ourselves. On this head 
we are instructed " to keep our bodies in 
temperance, soberness, and chastity/' 

Though our souls should be our great 
concern, yet, as they are nearly connected 
with our bodies, and as the impurity of the 
one contaminates the other, a great degree 
of moral attention is, of course, due to our 
bodies also. 

As our first station is in this world, to 



50 DUTIES TO OURSELVES. L. XI. 

which our bodies particularly belong, they 
are formed with such appetites as are requi- 
site to our commodious living in it; and the 
rule given us is " to use the world so as not 
to abuse it." St. Paul, by a beautiful allu- 
sion, calls our bodies the " temples of the 
Holy Ghost ;'• by which he means to impress 
us with a strong idea of their dignity ; and 
to deter us from debasing, by low pleasures, 
what should be the seat of so much purity. 
To youth these cautions are above measure 
necessary, because their passions and appe- 
tites are strong, their reason and judgment 
weak. They are prone to pleasure, and 
void of reflection. How, therefore, these 
young adventurers in life may best steer 
their course, and use this sinful world so 
as not to abuse it, is a consideration well 
worth their attention — let us then see under 
what regulations these appetites should be 
restrained. 

By keeping our bodies in temperance, is 
meant avoiding excess in eating, with regard 
both to the quantity and quality of our food. 
We should neither eat more than our sto- 
machs can well bear, nor be nice and deli- 
cate in our eating. 



DUTIES TO OURSELVES. 51 

To preserve the body in health is the end 
of eating; and they who regulate themselves 
merely by this end, who eat without choice 
or distinction, paying no regard to the plea- 
sure of eating, observe perhaps the best rule 
of temperance; they go rather indeed be- 
yond temperance, and may be called ab- 
stemious. 

A man may be temperate, and yet allow 
himself a little more indulgence : great care, 
however, is here necessary; and the more* 
as perhaps no precise rule can be affixed 
after we have passed the first great limit, 
and let the palate loose among variety. Our 
own discretion must be our guide, which 
should be constantly kept awake, by con- 
sidering the many bad consequences which 
attend a breach of temperance. Young 
men in the full vigour of health do not con- 
sider these things; but as age comes on, and 
different maladies begin to appear, they may 
perhaps repent they did not a little earlier 
practise the rules of temperance. 

As temperance relates chiefly to eating, 
soberness or sobriety relates properly to 
drinking. And here the same observations 
recur. The strictest, and perhaps the best 

e 2 



52 DUTIES TO OURSELVES. L. XI* 

rule, is merely to satisfy the end of drinking. 
But if a little more indulgence be taken, it 
ought to be taken with the greatest circum- 
spection. 

With regard to youth, indeed, I should 
be. inclined to great strictness on this head. 
In eating, if they eat of simple food, they 
cannot easily err. Their growing limbs and 
strong exercise require larger supplies than 
full grown bodies, which must be kept in 
order by a more rigid temperance. But if 
more indulgence be allowed them in eating, 
less, surely, should in drinking. With strong 
liquors of every kind they have nothing to 
do; and if they should totally abstain on 
this head, it were so much the better. The 
languor which attends age requires, perhaps, 
now and then some aids; but the spirits of 
youth want no recruits; a little rest is suffi- 
cient. 

As to the bad consequences derived from 
excessive drinking, besides filling the blood 
with bloated and vicious humours, and de- 
bauching the purity of the mind, as in the 
case of intemperate eating, it is attended 
with this peculiar evil, the loss of our senses. 
Hence follow frequent inconveniences and 



DUTIES TO OURSELVES. 53 

mortifications. We expose our follies, we 
betray our secrets, we are often imposed 
upon, we quarrel with our friends, we lay 
ourselves open to our enemies ; and, in short, 
make ourselves the objects of contempt, and 
the topics of ridicule to all our acquaintance. 
Nor is it only the act of intoxication which 
deprives us of our reason during the preva- 
lence of it, the habit of drunkenness soon 
besots and impairs the understanding, and 
renders us at all times less fit for the offices 
of life. 

We are next enjoined " to keep our bodies 
in chastity." " Flee youthful lusts," says 
the apostle, " which war against the soul ;" 
and there is surely nothing which carries 
on a war more successfully. Wherever we 
have a catalogue in Scripture of those sins 
which in a peculiar manner debauch the 
mind, these youthful lusts have always, un- 
der some denomination, a place among them. 
To keep ourselves free from all contagion 
of this kind, let us endeavour to preserve a 
purity in our thoughts, our words, and our 
actions. First, let us preserve a purity in 
our thoughts. These dark recesses, which 
the eye of the world cannot reach, are the 



54 DUTIES TO OURSELVES. L. XI. 

receptacles of these youthful lusts. Here 
they find their first encouragement. The 
entrance of such impure ideas, perhaps, we 
cannot always prevent. We may always, 
however, prevent cherishing them ; we may 
always prevent their making an impression 
upon us : the devil may be cast but as soon 
as discovered. 

Let us always keep in mind that even 
into those dark abodes the eye of Heaven 
can penetrate : that every thought of our 
hearts is open to that God before whom we 
must one day stand ; and that, however 
secretly we may indulge these impure ideas, 
at the great day of account they will cer- 
tainly appear in awful detail against us. 

But above all other considerations, it be- 
hoves us most to keep our thoughts pure, 
because they are the fountains from which 
our words and actions flow. " Out of the 
abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." 
Obscene words and actions are only bad 
thoughts matured, and spring as naturally 
from them as the plant from its seed. It is 
the same vicious depravity carried a step 
farther, and only shows a more confirmed 
and a more mischievous degree of guilt. 



DUTIES TO OURSELVES. 55 

While we keep our impurities in our thoughts 
they debauch only ourselves : bad enough, it 
is true. But when we proceed to words and 
actions, we let our impurities loose; we 
spread the contagion, and become the cor- 
rupters of others. 

Let it be our first care, therefore, to keep 
our thoughts pure. If we do this, our words 
and actions will be pure of course ; and that 
we may be the better enabled to do it, let us 
use such helps as reason and religion pre- 
scribe. Let us avoid all company and all 
books that have a tendency to corrupt our 
minds, and every thing that can inflame our 
passions. He who allows himself in these 
things holds a parley with vice, which will 
infallibly debauch him in the end, if he do 
not take the alarm in time, and break off 
such dalliance. 

One thing ought to be our particular care; 
and that is, never to be unemployed* Inge- 
nious amusements are of great use in filling 
up the vacuities of our time. Idle we should 
never be. A vacant mind is an invitation to 
vice. 



56 COVETING AND DESIRING 



LECTURE XII. 

ON COVETING AND DESIRING OTHER MEN'S 
GOODS. 

We are forbidden • ' to covet or desire other 
men's goods/' 

There are two great paths of vice, into 
which bad men commonly strike; that of 
unlawful pleasure, and that of unlawful 
gain. The paths of unlawful pleasure we 
have just examined, and have seen the dan- 
ger of obeying the headstrong impulse of 
our appetites, 

We have considered also an immoderate 
love of gain, and have seen dishonesty and 
fraud in a variety of shapes. But we have 
3^et viewed them only as they relate to 
society. We have viewed only the outward 
action. The rule before us, " we must not 
covet nor desire other men's goods," comes 
a step nearer home, and considers the mo- 
tive which governs the action. 

Covetousness, or the love of money, is 
called in Scripture " the root of all evil ;" 



OTHER MEN'S GOODS. 51 

and it is called so for two reasons, because it 
makes us wicked, and because it makes us 
miserable. 

First, it makes us wicked. When it once 
gets possession of the heart, it will let no 
good principle flourish near it. Most vices 
have their fits, and when the violence of 
the passion is spent, there is some interval of 
calm. The vicious appetite cannot always 
run riot: it is fatigued at last by its own 
impetuosity ; and it is possible that in this 
moment of tranquillity a whisper from virtue 
may be heard. But in avarice there is 
rarely intermission : it hangs like a dead 
weight upon the soul, always pulling it to 
earth. We might as well expect to see a 
plant grow upon a flint, as a virtue in the 
heart of a miser. 

It makes us miserable as well as wicked. 
The cares and the fears of avarice are pro- 
verbial ; and it must needs be, that he who 
depends for happiness on what is liable to a 
thousand accidents, must of course feel as 
many distresses, and almost as many disap- 
pointments. The good man depends for 
happiness on something more permanent; 
and if his worldly affairs go ill ? his great 



58 COVETING AND DESIRING L. XII. 

dependance is still left. But as wealth is 
the god which the covetous man worships 
(for " covetousness," we are told, " is idola- 
try"), a disappointment here is a disappoint- 
ment indeed. Be he ever so prosperous, 
his wealth cannot secure him against the 
evils of mortality ; against that time when 
he must give up all he values; when the 
bargains of advantage will be over, and no- 
thing left but tears and despair. 

But even a desiring frame of mind, though 
it be not carried to such a length, is always 
productive of misery. It cannot be other- 
wise. While we suffer ourselves to be con- 
tinually in quest of what we have not, it is 
impossible we should be happy with what 
we have. In a word, to abridge our wants 
as much as possible, not to increase them, is 
the truest happiness. 

As covetousness is esteemed the vice of 
age, every appearance of it among young 
persons ought particularly to be discouraged ; 
because if it gets ground at this early period, 
nobody can tell how far it may afterwards 
proceed. And yet, on the other side, there 
may be great danger of encouraging the 
opposite extreme. As it is certainly right, 



OTHER MEN'S GOODS. 59 

under proper restrictions, both to save our 
money and to spend it, it would be highly 
useful to fix the due bounds on each side. 
But nothing is more difficult than to raise 
these nice limits between extremes; every 
man's case, in a thousand circumstances, 
differs from his neighbour's : and as no rule 
can be fixed for all, every man, of course, 
in these disquisitions, must be left to his 
own conscience. We are, indeed, very 
ready to give our opinions how others ought 
to act. We can adjust, with great nicety, 
what is proper for them to do; and point 
out their mistakes with much precision ; 
while nothing is necessary to us but to act 
as properly as we can ourselves, observing 
as just a mean as possible between prodi- 
gality and avarice, and applying in all our 
difficulties to the word of God, where those 
great landmarks of morality are the most 
accuratelv fixed. 

We have now taken a view of what is 
prohibited in our commerce with mankind : 
let us next see what is enjoined. Instead 
of spending our fortune, therefore, in unlaw- 
ful pleasure, or increasing it by unlawful 
gain, we are required " to learn, and labour 



60 COVETING AND DESIRING L. XII. 

truly (that is honestly) to get our own living, 
and to do our duty in that state of life unto 
which it shall please God to call us." The 
words will be sufficiently explained by con- 
sidering, first, that we all have some station 
in life, some particular duties to discharge; 
and, secondly, in what manner we ought to 
discharge them. 

That every man was born for active life 
is plain from the necessity of labour. If it 
had not been necessary, God would not 
originally have imposed it. But without it 
the body would become enervated, and the 
mind corrupted. Idleness, therefore, is justly 
considered the origin both of disease and 
vice. So that if labour and employment, 
either of body or mind, had no use but 
what respected ourselves, they would be 
highly proper : but they have farther use. 

The necessity of them is plain, from the 
want that all men have of the assistance of 
others. If so, this assistance should be mu- 
tual ; every man should contribute his part. 
We have already seen that it is proper there 
should be different stations in the world — 
that some should be placed high in life, and 
others low. The lowest, we know, cannot 



OTHER MEN'S GOODS. 61 

be exempt from labour, and the highest 
ought not ; though their labours, according 
to their station, will be of a different kind. 
Some, we see, " must labour to get their 
own living, and others should do their duty 
in that state of life, whatever that state is, 
unto which it hath pleased God to call 
them." 

All are assisted : all should assist. God 
distributes, we read, various talents among 
men ; to some he gives five talents, to others 
two, and to others one : but it is expected, we 
find, that, notwithstanding this inequality, 
each should employ the talent that is given 
to the best advantage ; and he who received 
five talents was under the same obligation 
of improving them, as he who had received 
only one ; and would, if he had hid his 
talents in the earth, have been punished in 
proportion to the abuse. Every man, even 
in the highest station, may find a proper 
employment, both for his time and fortune, 
if he please : and he may assure himself 
that God, by placing him in that station, 
never meant to exempt him from the com- 
mon obligations of society, and give him a 
licence to spend his life in ease and pleasure. 
God meant, assuredly, that he should bear 



62 COVETING AND DESIRING L. XII. 

his part in the general commerce of life; 
that he should consider himself not as an 
individual, but as a member of the commu- 
nity, the interests of which he is bound to 
support with all his power; and that his 
elevated station gives him no other preemi- 
nence than that of being more extensively 
useful. 

Having thus seen that we have all some 
station in life to support, some particular 
duties to discharge, let us now see in what 
manner we ought to discharge them. 

We have an easy rule given us in Scrip- 
ture on this head, that all our duties in this 
life should be performed " as to the Lord, 
and not unto man ;" that is, we should con- 
sider our stations in life as trusts reposed in 
us by our Maker, and as such should dis- 
charge the duties of them. What though 
no worldly trust be reposed ? What though 
we are accountable to nobody upon earth ? 
Can we, therefore, suppose ourselves in re- 
ality less accountable? Can we suppose 
that God, for no reason that we can divine, 
has singled us out, and given us a large 
proportion of the things of this world (while 
others around us are in need), for no other 
purpose than to squander it away upon our- 



OTHER MEN'S GOODS. 63 

selves ? To God, undoubtedly, we are ac- 
countable for every blessing we enjoy. What 
mean, in Scripture, the talents given, and the 
use assigned, but the conscientious discharge 
of the duties of life, according to the advan- 
tages with which they are attended ? 

It matters not whether these advantages 
be an inheritance or an acquisition : still 
they are the gift of God. Agreeably to their 
rank in life, it is true, all men should live : 
human distinctions require it; and in doing 
this properly every one around us will be 
benefited. Utility should be considered in 
all our expenses ; even the very amuse- 
ments of a man of fortune should be founded 
on it. 

In short, it is the constant injunction of 
Scripture, in whatever station we are placed, 
to consider ourselves as God's servants, and 
as acting immediately under his eye, not 
expecting our reward among men, but from 
our great Master who is in Heaven. This 
sanctifies, in a manner, all our actions : it 
places the little difficulties of our station in 
the light of God's appointments, and turns 
the most common duties of life into acts of 
religion. 



()4 ON THE SACRAMENT 



LECTURE XIII. 

ON THE SACRAMENT OF BAPTISM. 

The sacrament of baptism is now con- 
sidered ; in which, if we consider the in- 
ward grace, we shall see how aptly the sign 
represents it. The inward grace, or thing 
signified, we are told, is " a death unto sin, 
and a new birth unto righteousness ;" by 
which is meant that great renovation of 
nature, that purity of heart, which the Chris- 
tian religion is intended to produce. And 
surely there cannot be a more significant 
sign of this than water, on account of its 
cleansing nature. As water refreshes the 
body, and purifies it from all contracted 
filth, it aptly represents 4:hat renovation of 
nature which cleanses the soul from the im- 
purities of sin. 

It is next asked, what is required of those 
who are baptised ? To this we answer, 
" Repentance, whereby they forsake sin ; 
and faith, whereby they steadfastly believe 
the promises of God made to them in that 
sacrament." 



OF BAPTISM. 65 

The primitive church was extremely strict 
on this head. In those times, before Chris- 
tianity was established, when adults offered 
themselves for baptism, no one was admitted 
until he had given a very satisfactory evi- 
dence of his repentance ; and till on good 
grounds he could profess his faith in Christ : 
and it was afterwards expected from him 
that he should prove his faith and repent- 
ance by a regular obedience during the 
future part of his life. 

If faith and repentance are expected at 
baptism, it is a very natural question, Why 
then are infants baptized, when, by reason 
of their tender age, they can give no evi- 
dence of either ? 

Whether infants should be admitted to 
baptism, or whether that sacrament should 
be deferred till years of discretion, is a 
question in the Christian church which hath 
been agitated with some animosity. Our 
church by no means looks upon baptism as 
necessary to the infant's salvation*. No 



# The Catechism asserts the sacraments to be only 
generally necessary to salvation, excepting particular cases. 
Where the use of them is intentionally rejected, it is cer- 
tainly criminal. 



m 



ON THE SACRAMENT L. XIV. 



man acquainted with the spirit of Christianity 
can conceive that God will leave the salva- 
tion of so many innocent souls in the hands 
of others. But the practice is considered 
as founded upon the usage of the earliest 
times : and the church, observing that cir- 
cumcision was the introductory rite to the 
Jewish covenant, and that baptism was in- 
tended to succeed circumcision, it naturally 
supposes that baptism should be adminis- 
tered to infants, as circumcision was. The 
church, however, in this case, hath provided 
sponsors, who make a profession of obedi- 
ence in the child's name. 



LECTURE XIV. 

ON THE SACRAMENT OF THE LORD'S 
SUPPER. 

The first question is an inquiry into the 
original of the institution : " Why was the 
sacrament of the Lord's Supper ordained." 
It was ordained, we are informed, " for 
the continual remembrance of the sacrifice 
of the death of Christ, and of the benefits 
which we receive therebv." 



OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 67 

In examining a sacrament in general, we 
have already seen that both baptism and the 
Lord's Supper were originally instituted as 
the " means of receiving the grace of God, 
and as pledges to assure us thereof." 

But besides these primary ends, they have 
each a secondary one, in representing the 
two most important truths of religion, which 
gives them more force and influence. Bap- 
tism, we have seen, represents that renova- 
tion of our sinful nature which the Gospel 
was intended to introduce : and the peculiar 
end which the Lord's Supper had in view 
was the sacrifice of the death of Christ, 
with all the benefits which arise from it, the 
remission of our sins, and the reconciliation 
of the world to God : " This do," said our 
Saviour, " in remembrance of me." 

The outward part, or sign of the Lord's 
Supper, is "bread and wine;" the things 
signified are the " body and blood of Christ." 
In examining the sacrament of baptism, I 
endeavoured to show how very apt a sym- 
bol water is in that ceremony. Bread and 
wine also are symbols equally apt in repre- 
senting the body and blood of Christ There 
is a difficulty in this part of the Catechism 

F-2 



f)8 ON THE SACRAMENT L. XIV. 

which should not he passed over: we are 
told, that " the body and blood of Christ 
are verily and indeed taken and received by 
the faithful in the Lord's Supper." This 
expression sounds very like the popish doc- 
trine; the true sense of the words undoubt- 
edly is, that the faithful believer only verily 
and indeed receives the benefit of the sacra- 
ment. 

It is next asked, What benefits we receive 
from the Lord's Supper? To which it is 
answered, " the strengthening and refresh- 
ing of our souls by the body and blood of 
Christ, as our bodies are by the bread and 
wine." As our bodies are strengthened and 
refreshed, in a natural way, by bread and 
wine, so should our souls be, in a spiritual 
way, by a devout commemoration of the 
passion of Christ. By gratefully remem- 
bering what he suffered for us, we should 
be excited to a greater abhorrence of sin, 
which was the cause of his sufferings. 

It is lastly asked, " What is required of 
those who come to the Lord's Supper ?" To 
which w r e answer, " That we should ex- 
amine ourselves, whether we repent us truly 
of our former sins, steadfastly purposing to 



OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 69 

lead a new life, have a lively faith in God's 
mercy through Christ, with a thankful re- 
membrance of his death, and to be in charity 
with all men." 

That pious frame of mind is here, in very 
few words, pointed out, which a Christian 
ought to cherish and cultivate in himself at 
all times, but especially upon the perform- 
ance of any solemn act of religion. Very 
little, indeed, is said in Scripture of any 
particular frame of mind which should ac- 
company the performance of this duty ; but 
it may easily be inferred from the nature of 
the duty itself. 

In the first place, " we should repent us 
truly of our former sins; steadfastly pur- 
posing to lead a new life." He who per- 
forms a religious exercise, without being 
earnest in this point, adds only a pharisaical 
hypocrisy to his other sins. Unless he seri- 
ously resolve to lead a good life, he had 
better refrain, and not pretend, by receiving 
the sacrament, to a piety which he does not 
feel. 

These " steadfast purposes of leading a 
new life" form a very becoming exercise to 
Christians. The lives even of the best of 



70 



ON THE SACRAMENT L. XIV, 



men afford only a mortifying retrospect. 
Though they may have conquered some of 
their worst propensities, yet the triumphs of 
sin over them, at the various periods of their 
lives, will always be remembered with sor- 
row ; and may always be remembered with 
advantage, keeping them on their guard 
for the future, and strengthening them more 
and more in all their good resolutions of 
obedience. 

To our repentance and resolutions of obe- 
dience we are required to add " a lively 
faith in God's mercy, through Christ, with 
a thankful remembrance of his death. " We 
should impress ourselves with the deepest 
sense of humility, totally rejecting every 
idea of our own merit, hoping for God's 
favour only through the merits of our great 
Redeemer, and with hearts full of gratitude, 
trusting only to his all sufficient sacrifice. 

Lastly, w r e are required, at the celebra- 
tion of this great rite, to be " in charity with 
all men." 

It commemorates the greatest instance of 
love that can be conceived ; and should, 
therefore, raise in us correspondent affec- 
tions. It should excite in us that constant 



OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 71 

flow of benevolence, in which the spirit of 
religion consists ; and without which, in- 
deed, we can have no religion at all. Love 
is the very distinguishing badge of Christi- 
anity : " By this," said our great Master, 
"•shall all men know that ye are my dis- 
ciples." 

One species of charity should, at this time, 
never be forgotten, and that is the forgive- 
ness of others. No acceptable gift can be 
offered at this altar but in the spirit of 
reconciliation. 

Let us receive these sacraments, for the 
gracious purposes for which our Lord en- 
joined them, with gratitude and with rever- 
ence. But let us not lay a greater stress 
upon them than our Lord intended. Hea- 
ven, we doubt not, may be gained when 
there have been the means of receiving 
neither the one sacrament nor the other. 
But unless our affections are right, and our 
lives answerable to them, we can never 
please God, though we perform the exter- 
nals of religion with ever so much exact- 
ness. We may err in our notions about 
the sacraments ; the world has long been 
divided on these subjects; and a gracious 



l u 2 ON THE SACRAMENT, ETC. L. XIV. 

God, it may be hoped, will pardon our 
errors. But to matters of practice we have 
no apology for error. The great lines of 
our duty are drawn so strong, that a devia- 
tion here is not error, but guilt. 

Let us then, to conclude from the whole, 
make it our principal care to purify our 
hearts in the sight of God. Let us beseech 
him to increase the influence of his Holy 
Spirit within us, that our faith may be of 
that kind " which worketh by love ;" that 
all our affections, and from them our actions, 
may flow in a steady course of obedience ; 
that each day may correct the last, by a 
sincere repentance of our mistakes in life ; 
and that we may continue gradually to 
approach nearer the idea of Christian per- 
fection. Let us do this, disclaiming, after 
all, any merits of our own, and not trusting 
in outward observances, but trusting in the 
merits of Christ to make up our deficiences, 
and we need not fear our acceptance with 
God. 



LECTURE XV. 

THE LORD'S PRAYER. 

The full meaning of this admirable prayer, 
and of the several petitions contained in it, 
may perhaps be not improperly expressed in 
the following manner : 

" Our Father which art in heaven, hal- 
lowed be thy name," 

O thou great Parent of the universe, our 
Creator, our Preserver, and continual Bene- 
factor, grant that we, and all reasonable 
creatures, may entertain just and worthy no- 
tions of thy nature and attributes, may fear 
thy power, admire thy wisdom, adore thy 
goodness, rely upon thy truth; may rever- 
ence thy holy name, may bless and praise 
thee, may worship and obey thee. » 

" Thy kingdom come, thy will be done 
in earth as it is in heaven. " 

Grant that all the nations of the earth 
may come to the knowledge and belief of 
thy holy religion ; that it may every where 
produce the blessed fruits of piety, righteous- 



74 



THE LORD S PRAYER. L. XV. 



ness, charity, and sobriety; that by a con- 
stant endeavour to obey thy holy laws we 
may approach, as near as the infirmity of 
our nature will allow, to the more perfect 
obedience of the angels that are in heaven, 
and thus prepare ourselves for entering into 
thy kingdom of glory hereafter. 

" Give us this day our daily bread." 
Feed us, we beseech thee, with food con- 
venient for us. We ask not for riches and 
honours, give us only what is necessary for 
our comfortable subsistence in the several 
stations which thy providence has allotted 
to us ; and, above all, give us contented 
minds. 

" And forgive us our trespasses, as we for- 
give them that trespass against us." 

We are all, O Lord, the very best of us, 
miserable sinners. Be not extreme, we be- 
seech thee, to mark what we have done 
amiss, but pity our infirmities, and pardon 
our offences. Yet let us not dare to implore 
forgiveness from thee, unless we also from 
our hearts forgive our offending brethren. 
" Lead us not into temptation." 
We are surrounded on every side with 
temptations to sin; and such is the corrup- 
tion and frailty of our nature, that, without 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 15 

thy powerful succour, we cannot always 
stand upright. Take us, then, O gracious 
God, under thy almighty protection, and 
amidst all the dangers and difficulties of our 
Christian warfare be thou our refuge and 
support. Suffer us not to be tempted above 
what we are able to bear, but send thy 
Holy Spirit to strengthen our own weak 
endeavours, and enable us to escape, or to 
subdue, all the enemies of our salvation. 

" But deliver us from evil/' 

Preserve us also, if it be thy blessed will, 
not only from spiritual but from temporal 
evil. Keep us ever by thy watchful provi- 
dence, both outwardly in our bodies and 
inwardly in our souls, that, thou being in 
all cases our ruler and guide, we may so 
pass through things temporal as finally to 
lose not the things eternal. 

Hear us, O Lord our governor, from 
heaven, thy dwelling place; and when thou 
hearest, have regard to our petitions. They 
are offered up to thee in the fullest confidence 
that thy goodness will dispose, and thy power 
enable thee to grant, whatever thy wisdom 
sees to be convenient for us, and conducive 
to our final happiness. 



76 



LECTURE XVI. 



BAD COMPANY. 



" Evil communication corrupts good man- 
ners. " This assertion is general, and no 
doubt all people suffer from such communi- 
cation ; but, above all, the minds of youth 
will suffer, which are yet unformed, unprin- 
cipled, unfurnished, and ready to receive 
any impression. 

But before we consider the danger of 
keeping bad company, let us first see the 
meaning of the phrase. 

In the phrase of the world, good company 
means fashionable people. Their stations 
in life, not their morals, are considered: and 
he who associates with such, though they 
set him the example of breaking every com- 
mandment of the decalogue, is still said to 
keep good company. I should wish you to 
fix another meaning to the expression; and 
to consider vice in the same detestable 
light in whatever company it is found ; nay, 



BAD COMPANY. 77 

to consider all company in which it is found, 
be their station what it will, as bad com- 
pany. 

The three following classes will perhaps 
include the greatest part of those who de- 
serve this appellation. 

In the first, I should rank all who en- 
deavour to destroy the principles of Chris- 
tianity, who jest upon Scripture^ talk blas- 
phemy, and treat revelation w 7 ith contempt. 

A second class of bad company, are those 
w r ho have a tendency to destroy in us the 
principles of common honesty and integrity. 
Under this head we may rank gamesters of 
every denomination, and the low and infa- 
mous characters of every profession. 

A third class of bad company, and such 
as are most dangerous to youth, includes the 
w T hole catalogue of men of pleasure. In 
whatever way they follow the call of appe- 
tite, they have equally a tendency to cor- 
rupt the purity of the mind. 

Besides these three classes, whom we 
may call bad company, there are others 
who come under the denomination of ill 
chosen company ; trifling, insipid charac- 
ters of every kind, who follow no business, 



78 BAD COMPANY. L. XVI. 

are led by no ideas of improvement, but 
spend their time in dissipation and folly, 
whose highest praise it is that they are only 
not vicious. With none of these a serious 
man would wish his son to keep company. 

It may be asked, what is meant by keep- 
ing bad company? The world abounds 
with characters of this kind : they meet us 
in every place ; and if we keep company at 
all, it is impossible to avoid keeping com- 
pany with such persons. 

It is true, if we were determined never to 
have any commerce with bad men, we 
must, as the apostle remarks, " altogether 
go out of the world. " By keeping bad 
company, therefore, is not meant a casual 
intercourse with them, on occasion of busi- 
ness, or as they accidentally fall in our way; 
but having an inclination to consort with 
them, complying with that inclination, seek- 
ing their company when we might avoid it, 
entering into their parties, and making them 
the companions of our choice. Mixing with 
them occasionally cannot be avoided. 

The danger of keeping bad company 
arises, principally, from our aptness to imi- 
tate and catch the manners and sentiments 



BAD COMPANY. 79 

of others ; from the power of custom ; from 
our own bad inclinations, and from the 
pains taken by the bad to corrupt us. 

In our earliest youth the contagion of 
manners is observable. In the boy yet in- 
capable of having any thing instilled into 
him, we easily discover from his first actions, 
and rude attempts at language, the kind of 
persons with whom he has been brought up. 

As he enters farther into life his behaviour, 
manners, and conversation all take their 
cast from the company he keeps. Observe 
the peasant and the man of education ; the 
difference is striking. And yet God hath 
bestowed equal talents on each. The only 
difference is, they have been thrown into 
different scenes of life, and have had com- 
merce with persons of different stations. 

Nor are manners and behaviour more 
easily caught than opinions and principles. 
In childhood and youth we naturally adopt 
the sentiments of those about us. And as 
we advance in life, how few of us think for 
ourselves? How many of us are satisfied 
with taking our opinions at secondhand ! 

The great power and force of custom 
form another argument against keeping 



80 BAD COMPANY. L. XVI. 

bad company. However seriously disposed 
we may be, and however shocked at the 
first approaches of vice, this shocking ap- 
pearance goes off upon an intimacy with it. 
Custom will soon render the most disgustful 
thing familiar. And this is, indeed, a kind 
provision of nature to render labour and 
toil and danger, which are the lot of man, 
more easy to him. The raw soldier, who 
trembles at the first encounter, becomes a 
hardy veteran in a few campaigns. Habit 
renders danger familiar, and of course in- 
different to him. 

But habit, which is intended for our good, 
may, like other kind appointments of nature, 
be converted into a mischief. The well 
disposed youth, entering first into bad com- 
pany, is shocked at what he hears and what 
he sees. The good principles which he had 
imbibed ring in his ears an alarming lesson 
against the wickedness of his companions. 
But, alas ! this sensibility is but of a day's 
continuance. The next jovial meeting 
makes the horrid picture of yesterday more 
easilv endured. Virtue is soon thought a 
severe rule ; the Gospel an inconvenient 
restraint : a few pangs of conscience now 



BAD COMPANY. 81 

and then interrupt his pleasures, and whis- 
per to him that he once had better thoughts; 
but even these by degrees die away ; and 
he who at first was shocked even at the 
appearance of vice, is formed by custom 
into a profligate leader of vicious pleasures, 
perhaps into an abandoned tempter to vice. 
So carefully should we oppose the first ap- 
proaches of sin ! so vigilant should we be 
against so insidious an enemy ! 

Our own bad inclinations form another 
argument against bad company. We have 
so many passions and appetites to govern ; 
so many bad propensities of different kinds 
to watch; that, amidst such a variety of 
enemies within, we ought at least to be on 
our guard against those without. The breast 
even of a good man, is represented in Scrip- 
ture, and experienced in fact, to be in a 
state of warfare. His vicious inclinations 
are continually drawing him one way, while 
his virtue is making efforts another. And 
if the Scriptures represent this as the case 
even of a good man, whose passions, it may 
be imagined, are become in some degree 
cool and temperate, and who has made 
some progress in a virtuous course, what 

G 



82 RIDICULE ONE OF THE L. XVII. 

may we suppose to be the danger of an 
unexperienced youth, whose passions and 
appetites are violent and seducing, and 
whose mind is in a still less confirmed state ? 
It is his part surely to keep out of the way 
of temptation, and to give his bad inclina- 
tions as little room as possible to acquire 
new strength. 



LECTURE XVII. 

RIDICULE ONE OF THE CHIEF ARTS OF 
CORRUPTION. 

These arguments against keeping bad com- 
pany will still receive additional strength, 
if we consider farther, the great pains taken 
by the bad to corrupt others. It is a very 
true but lamentable fact in the history of 
human nature, that bad men take more 
pains to corrupt their own species, than vir- 
tuous men do to reform them. Hence 
those specious arts, that show of friendship, 
that appearance of disinterestedness, with 
which the profligate seducer endeavours to 
lure the unwary youth, and at the same 



CHIEF ARTS OF CORRUPTION. 83 

time yielding to his inclinations, seems to 
follow rather than to lead him. Many are 
the arts of these corrupters; but their prin- 
cipal art is ridicule. By this they endea- 
vour to laugh out of countenance all the 
better principles of their wavering proselyte, 
and make him think contemptibly of those 
Avhom he formerly respected ; by this they 
stifle the ingenuous blush, and finally de- 
stroy all sense of shame. Their cause is 
below argument. They aim not, therefore, 
at reasoning. Raillery is the weapon they 
employ; and who is there that hath the 
steadiness to hear persons and things, what- 
ever reverence he may have had for them, 
the subject of continual ridicule, without 
losing that reverence by degrees ? 

Having thus considered what principally 
makes bad company dangerous, I shall just 
add, that even were your morals in no dan- 
ger from such intercourse, your characters 
would infallibly suffer. The world will 
always judge of you by your companions : 
and nobody will suppose that a youth of 
virtuous principles himself can possibly form 
a connection with a profligate. 

In reply to the danger supposed to arise 

g 2 



84 RIDICULE ONE OF THE L. XVII. 

from bad company, perhaps the youth may 
say he is so firm in his own opinions that 
he thinks himself secure, and need not re- 
strain himself from the most unreserved con- 
versation. 

Alas ! this security is the very brink of 
the precipice : nor hath vice in her whole 
train a more dangerous enemy to you than 
presumption. Caution, ever awake to dan- 
ger, is a guard against it. But security lays 
every guard asleep. " Let him who think- 
eth he standeth," saith the apostle, " take 
heed lest he fall." Even an apostle himself 
did fall, by thinking that he stood secure. 
" Though I should die with thee," said St. 
Peter to his Master, " yet will I not deny 
thee." That very night, notwithstanding 
this boasted security, he repeated the crime 
three several times. And can we suppose 
that presumption, which occasioned an 
apostle's fall, shall not ruin an unexperi- 
enced youth? The story is recorded for 
our instruction ; and should be a standing 
lesson against presuming upon our own 
strength. 

In conclusion, such as the dangers are 
which arise from bad company, such are the 



CHIEF ARTS OF CORRUPTION. 85 

advantages which accrue from good. We 
imitate and catch the manners and senti- 
ments of good men as we do of bad. Cus- 
tom, which renders vice less a deformity, 
renders virtue more lovely. Good examples 
have a force beyond instruction, and warm 
us into emulation beyond precept; while 
the countenance and conversation of virtu- 
ous men encourage and draw out into action 
every kindred disposition of our hearts. 

Besides, as a sense of shame often pre- 
vents our doing a right thing in bad com- 
pany, it operates in the same way in pre- 
venting our doing a wrong one in good. 
Our character becomes a pledge ; and we 
cannot, without a kind of dishonour, draw 
back. 

It is not possible, indeed, for a youth, yet 
unfurnished with knowledge (which fits him 
for good company), to choose his com- 
panions as he pleases. A youth must have 
something peculiarly attractive to qualify 
him for the society of men of established 
reputation. What he has to do is, at all 
events, to avoid bad company; and to en- 
deavour, by improving his mind and morals, 
to qualify himself for the best 



86 RIDICULE ONE OF THE L. XVII. 

Happy is that youth who, upon his en- 
trance into the world, can choose his com- 
pany with discretion. There is often in 
vice a gaiety, an unreserve, a freedom of 
manners, which are apt, at first sight, to 
engage the unwary : while virtue, on the 
other hand, is often modest, reserved, diffi- 
dent, backward, and easily disconcerted. 
That freedom of manners, however engag- 
ing, may cover a very corrupt heart : and 
this awkwardness, however unpleasing, may 
veil a thousand virtues. Suffer not your 
mind, therefore, to be easily either engaged 
or disgusted at first sight. Form your inti- 
macies with reserve; and if drawn unawares 
into an acquaintance you disapprove, im- 
mediately retreat. Open not your hearts 
to every profession of friendship. They 
whose friendship is worth accepting are, as 
you ought to be, reserved in offering it. 
Choose your companions not merely for the 
sake of a few outward accomplishments, for 
the idle pleasure of spending an agreeable 
hour; but mark their disposition to virtue 
or vice, and, as much as possible, choose 
those for your companions whom you see 
others respect: always remembering, that 



CHIEF ARTS OF CORRUPTION. 87 

upon the choice of your company depends, 
in a great measure, the success of all you 
have learned, the hopes of your friends, 
your future characters in life, and, what 
you ought above all things to value, the 
purity of your hearts. 



LECTURE XVIII. 

RELIGION THE BEST AND ONLY SUPPORT 
IN CASES OF REAL STRESS. 

There are no principles but those of reli- 
gion to be depended on in case of real stress ; 
and these are able to encounter the worst 
emergencies, and to bear up under all the 
changes and chances to which our life is 
subject. 

Consider, then, what virtue the very first 
principle of religion has, and how wonder- 
fully it is conducive to this end: That there 
is a God, a powerful, a wise, and good being, 
who first made the world, and continues to 
govern it; by whose goodness all things are 
designed, and by whose providence all things 



88 



RELIGION THE ONLY L. XVIII. 



are conducted to bring about the greatest 
and best ends. The sorrowful and pensive 
.wretch that was giving way to his misfor- 
tunes, and mournfully sinking under them, 
the moment this doctrine comes in to his aid 
hushes all his complaints, and thus speaks 
comfort to his soul, " It is the Lord, let him 
do what seemeth him good. Without his 
direction I know that no evil can befall me, 
without his permission that no power can 
hurt me; it is impossible a Being so wise 
should mistake my happiness, or that a 
Being so good should contradict it. If he 
has denied me riches, or other advantages, 
perhaps he foresees the gratifying my wishes 
would undo me, and by my own abuse of 
them be perverted to my ruin. If he has 
denied me the request of children, or in his 
providence thought fit to take them from 
me, how can I say whether he has not dealt 
kindly with me, and only taken that away 
which he foresaw would embitter and shorten 
my days ? It does so to thousands, where the 
disobedience of a thankless child has brought 
down the parents' gray hairs with sorrow to 
the grave. Has he visited me with sickness, 
poverty, or other disappointments, can I say 



SUPPORT IN REAL STRESS 89 

but these are blessings in disguise ? so many 
different expressions of his care and con- 
cern to disentangle my thoughts from this 
world, and fix them upon another — another, 
a better world beyond this ! This thought 
opens a new face of hope and consolation to 
the unfortunate ; and as the persuasion of a 
providence reconciles him to the evils he 
has suffered, this prospect of a future life 
gives him strength to despise them, and 
esteem the light afflictions of this life, as 
they are, not worthy to be compared to 
what is reserved for him hereafter. 

Things are great or small by comparison; 
and he who looks no farther than this world, 
and balances the account of his joys and 
sufferings from that consideration, finds all 
his sorrows enlarged, and at the close of them 
will be apt to look back and cast the same 
sad reflection upon the whole which the 
patriarch did to Pharaoh, " That few and 
evil had been the days of his pilgrimage. " 
But let him lift up his eyes towards heaven, 
and steadfastly behold the life and immor- 
tality of a future state, he then wipes away 
all tears from off his eyes for ever ; like the 
exiled captive, big with the hopes that he is 



90 RELIGION THE ONLY L. XVIII. 

returning home, he feels not the weight of 
his chains, or counts the days of his captivity, 
but looks forward with rapture towards the 
country where his heart is fled before. 

These are the aids which religion offers us 
towards the regulation of our spirit under 
the evils of life: but, like great cordials, they 
are seldom used but on great occurrences. 
In the lesser evils of life we seem to stand 
unguarded, and our peace and contentment 
are overthrown, and our happiness broken in 
upon, by a little impatience of spirit under 
the cross and untoward accidents we meet 
with. These stand unprovided for, and we 
neglect them as we do the slighter indispo- 
sitions of the body, which we think not 
worth treating seriously, and so leave them 
to nature. In good habits of the body this 
may do ; and I would gladly believe there 
are such good habits of the temper, such a 
complexional ease and health of heart, as 
may often save the patient much medicine. 
We are still to consider, that however such 
good frames of mind are got, they are 
worth preserving by all rules. Patience 
and contentment, which, like the treasure 
hid in the field, for which a man sold all 



SUPPORT IN REAL STRESS. 91 

he had, to purchase, is of that price that it 
cannot be had at too great a cost; since 
without it, the best condition of life can- 
not make us happy ; and with it, it is im- 
possible we should be miserable, even in the 
worst. 



LECTURE XIX. 

EXTRACT OF A DISCOURSE ON THE OCCA- 
SION OF THE LAMENTABLE DEATH OF THE 
PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 

BY THE BISHOP OF CHESTER. 

One of the first and surest foundations of 
every good principle and habit, is a constant 
sense of the superintending providence of 
the Almighty. This sentiment or feeling 
lies at the root of all religion. It should 
therefore be the medium through which 
every incident is viewed ; should be mixed 
with, and pervade, all our thoughts and 
prayers. Thus shall we learn to see the 
Deity in every thing, and seeing, must 
adore the wisdom and benevolence of all 
his works. 



92 ' ON THE DEATH OF L. XIX. 

Instances, therefore, of adversity, of afflic- 
tion, or death, as they tend peculiarly to 
generate this christian frame of mind, can 
never be contemplated without their use. 
They awaken us from that fatal slumber 
into which ease and affluence are too apt to 
lull us: they bring us to a sense of our duty, 
they better prepare us to meet our Lord and 
our Redeemer, 

Sorrow is the nurse of wisdom. Every 
pious meditation, and every good disposi- 
tion, are cherished and matured in the house 
of mourning. It is there we are taught to 
feel that we are men and brethren : it is 
there we learn to commune with ourselves, 
and to retire within : it is there that we 
throw off the debasing clogs of mortality, 
and more sensibly aspire unto those blessed 
regions where peace and happiness for ever 
dwell. 

The contemplation of death, also, cannot 
but impress us with a conviction of the un- 
certain and perishable nature of all things 
here below ; cannot but remind us of that 
land of darkness to which we are all so 
evidently tending. Pass but a few years 
more, and this assembled crowd will be, 



THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 93 

every one of them, consigned to the grave, 
out of sight, and out of remembrance. The 
sun, indeed, will rise and set, but not to us. 
The tides will ebb and flow, the laws of 
nature will have their course, the earth will 
still give her increase, and the business of 
the world go on ; but we shall be removed 
from this scene, shall have no share in what 
is passing. 

Such meditations naturally tend to fill the 
mind with a sense of our entire dependance 
upon God. There is nothing in reality so 
near and essential to us, and yet there is 
nothing for the most part so distant from 
our perceptions, as the Deity. He is about 
our path and about our bed, in every breath 
we breathe, in every thought we think ; and 
yet for this very reason, and because he 
ought to be every thing, he too often be- 
comes nothing to us — -unseen, or disregard- 
ed. But in the season of adversity, when all 
other helps have failed, we then perceive 
the necessity of fleeing unto God. His 
providential care becomes first the object of 
faith, then of hope, and lastly of conso- 
lation. 

These should be the feelings of every 



94 ON THE DEATH OF , L. XIX. 

pious mind under all the trials and vicissi- 
tudes of life. He who makes affliction or 
death productive of their proper effects, 
will see in the arm of God a power over- 
ruling all things, and which can preserve 
him amidst all adversities. He becomes 
satisfied that the views of the Deity never 
ultimately terminate in misery, but that 
good is constantly educed out of evil. 

The vanity of all earthly greatness, the 
uncertainty and transitoriness of every ter- 
restrial enjoyment, can in no other instance 
be so convincingly brought home to our 
minds and feelings. Who now can trust in 
any thing of this world ? Who now can 
build his hopes upon the morrow ? Who 
but must perceive that youth, and health, 
and riches are not, for an instant, to be 
depended on ? That the paths of grandeur 
lead but to the grave. For what event 
could be farther from all expectation than 
that which has placed in the silent tomb 
the parent and her child ? If human efforts, 
if human prayers, could have averted the 
dart of death, we had not now been lament- 
ing together over the common failure of our 
fondest wishes. The first lesson, therefore, 



THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 95 

which this appalling dispensation should 
suggest, is a full conviction of our own help- 
lessness, and a sense of our dependance upon 
God. We here behold the precariousness 
of the tenure of life, and the fleetingness of 
our abode upon earth. So powerful is the 
hold which pleasure gains on our affections, 
so devoted our attachment to the interests 
and concerns of the world, that we see the 
young and strong borne to their tombs, we 
hear the last knell of departed life without 
at all laying these things to heart, without 
holding ourselves more prepared to meet 
our God. But the recent calamitous afflic- 
tion, by which a nation has been visited, 
forces reflection upon all; compels the most 
unthinking to consider their latter end. 

While, however, we thus behold the 
sovereignty of the Godhead, and perceive 
the weakness of our common nature, w f e 
should, at the same time, neither murmur 
nor despair. Every thing is ordained or 
permitted by God for our ultimate happi- 
ness or improvement. Little as we do see 
into the plans of Providence, and unable as 
we are to penetrate far into the veil of 
human events, yet do we see enough to 



96 



ON THE DEATH OF L. XIX, 



convince us that God never willingly, or 
but for their own good, punisheth the sons 
of men. Though the fate and issue of 
things be wisely hid in the womb of time, 
yet have we the sure word of Scripture and 
experience for believing, that the lot will at 
length fall into the lap of the righteous. 
We grieve not, then, as they without hope. 
Though troubled, we are not forsaken ; 
though cast down, we are not destroyed. 
Let us but act our parts well, and we may 
leave the ulterior disposal of every thing 
unto the Lord. The history of ages has 
demonstrated that the prosperity of empires 
and individuals is for the most part, propor- 
tionate to their virtue. Instead, therefore, 
of repining at any of the dispensations of 
the Almighty, much more instead of doubt- 
ing that God is just and gracious, let us 
rather proceed with renewed confidence to 
the discharge of our respective duties, well 
knowing that our Redeemer liveth; and 
that he, without whose permission not even 
a sparrow falleth to the ground, will never 
forsake the children who deserve his care. 
Thus believing and acting, whether we live 
or die, we shall live or die unto the Lord : 



THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 97 

and thus, as at present, under this most 
mysterious visitation, we shall still trust in 
the God of our salvation, and say, " The 
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, 
but blessed be the name of the Lord." 

We see, in the second place, from that 
genuine expression of grief which has so 
generally manifested itself, the influence and 
the weight of moral worth and character in 
every situation and circumstance of life. 
She of whom we have been deprived had 
laid aside for a time the splendours of royalty, 
and was exemplifying the private virtues of 
a domestic station. By the culture and im- 
provement of these she was qualifying her- 
self for that exalted office which she would, 
as we fondly expected, one day (though 
late, we hoped) be called upon to discharge. 
In the shade of retirement, by the exercise 
of benevolence, a benevolence the extent of 
which the tears of her neighbours have 
evinced, she was preparing herself for those 
high destinies to which both her birth and 
merit appeared to be leading her. In con- 
sequence she was becoming daily more and 
more a nation's pride : and we vainly flat- 
tered ourselves with thinking that the happi- 

H 



98 INFORMATION THE GOSPEL L. XX. 

ness which England had enjoyed, and the 
glories which it had achieved under female 
reigns, would all again have been displayed 
under hers. But what are the hopes of 
man ! She is gone! Our wishes and ex- 
pectations are shrouded with her in the 
grave. Still, however, though dead, she 
speaketh. That consolation which she ex- 
perienced herself, upon learning the death 
of her infant, must, from the same hal- 
lowed source, be sought for and found by 
us. If we really loved her when living, if 
we really mourn for her when dead, let 
these her words be for ever embalmed in 
our memories, " It is the will of God. " 



LECTURE XX. 

THE INFORMATION THE GOSPEL GIVES 
MOST DESIRABLE. 

The Christian revelation has such pretences, 
at least, as may make it worthy of a par- 
ticular consideration : it pretends to come 
from heaven; to have been confirmed by 
undeniable miracles and prophecies; to have 



GIVES MOST DESIRABLE. 99 

been ratified by the blood of Christ and his 
apostles, who died in asserting its truth; its 
doctrines are pure and holy, its precepts 
just and righteous; its worship is a reason- 
able service, refined from the errors of idol- 
atry and superstition, and spiritual like the 
God who is the object of it : it offers the aid 
and assistance of heaven to the weakness of 
nature, which makes the religion of the 
Gospel to be as practicable as it is reason- 
able ; it promises infinite rewards to obedi- 
ence, and threatens eternal punishment to 
obstinate offenders, which makes it of the 
utmost consequence to us soberly to con- 
sider it, since every one who rejects it 
stakes his own soul against the truth of it. 

Look into the Gospel, there you will 
find every reasonable hope of nature cleared 
up and confirmed, every difficulty answered 
and removed. Do the present circumstances 
of the world lead you to suspect that God 
could never be the author of such corrupt 
and wretched creatures as men now are ? 
Your suspicions are just and well founded, 
" God made man upright ;" but through the 
temptation of the devil sin entered, and 
death and destruction followed after. 



h2 



100 INFORMATION THE GOSPEL L. XX. 

Do you suspect, from the success of virtue 
and vice in this world, that the providence 
of God does not interpose to protect the 
righteous from violence, or to punish the 
wicked ? The suspicion is not without 
ground. God leaves his best servants here 
to be tried oftentimes with affliction and 
sorrow, and permits the wicked to flourish 
and abound. The call of the Gospel is not 
to honour and riches here, but to take up 
our cross and follow Christ. 

Do you judge, from comparing the pre- 
sent state of the world with the natural no- 
tion you have of God, and of his justice and 
goodness, that there must needs be another 
state in which justice shall take place ? You 
reason right; and the Gospel confirms the 
judgment. God has appointed a day to 
judge the world in righteousness; then those 
who mourn shall rejoice, those who weep 
shall laugh, and the persecuted and afflicted 
servants of God shall be heirs of his king- 
dom. 

Have you sometimes misgivings of mind ? 
Are you tempted to mistrust this judgment 
when you see the difficulties which surround 
it on every side; some which affect the 



GIVES MOST DESIRABLE. 101 

soul in its separate state, some which affect 
the body in its state of corruption and disso- 
lution ? Look to the Gospel : there these 
difficulties are accounted for, and you need 
no longer puzzle yourself with dark ques- 
tions concerning the state, condition, and 
nature of separate spirits, or concerning the 
body, however to appearance lost and de- 
stroyed ; for the body and soul shall once 
more meet, to part no more, but to be happy 
for ever. In this case the learned cannot 
doubt, and the ignorant may be sure, that it 
is the man, the very man himself, who shall 
rise again : for a union of the same soul and 
body is as certainly the restoration of the 
man, as the dividing them was the destruc- 
tion. 

Would you know who it is that gives this 
assurance ? It is one who is able to make 
good his word : one who loved you so well 
as to die for you : yet one too great to be 
held a prisoner in the grave. No ; he rose 
with triumph and glory, the first born from 
the dead, and will, in like manner, call from 
the dust of the earth all those who put their 
trust and confidence in him. 

But who is this, you will say, who was 



102 INFORMATION THE GOSPEL L. XX. 

subject to death, and yet had power over 
death ? How could so much weakness and 
so much strength meet together ? That God 
has the power of life, we know ; but then he 
cannot die : that man is mortal, we know; 
but then he cannot give life. 

Consider; does this difficulty deserve an 
answer, or does it not ? Our blessed Saviour 
lived among us in a low and poor condition, 
exposed to much ill treatment from his 
jealous countrymen : when he fell into their 
power, their rage knew no bounds; they 
reviled him, insulted him, mocked him, 
scourged him, and at last nailed him to a 
cross ; where, by a shameful and wretched 
death, he finished a life of sorrow and afflic- 
tion. Did we know no more of him than 
this, upon what ground could we pretend to 
hope that he will be able to save us from the 
power of death ? We might say with the 
disciples, " We trusted this had been he 
who should have saved Israel ;" but he is 
dead, he is gone, and all our hopes are 
buried in his grave. 

If you think this ought to be answered, 
and that the faith of a Christian cannot be 
a reasonable faith, unless it be able to ac- 



GIVES MOST DESIRABLE. 103 

count for this seeming contradiction; I be- 
seech you then never more complain of the 
Gospel for furnishing an answer to this great 
objection, for removing this stumbling block 
out of the way of our faith. He was a man, 
and therefore he died : he was the Son of 
God, and therefore he rose from the dead, 
and will give life to all his true disciples. He 
it was who formed this world, and all things 
in it, and for the sake of man was content to 
become man, and to taste death for all, that 
all through him may live. This is a won- 
derful piece of knowledge, which God has 
revealed to us in his Gospel ; but he has not 
revealed it to raise our wonder, but to con- 
firm and establish our faith in him to whom 
he hath committed all power, " whom he 
hath appointed heir of all things." 

Had the Gospel required of us to expect 
from Christ the redemption of our souls and 
bodies, and given us no reason to think that 
Christ was endowed with power equal to the 
work, we might justly have complained ; 
and it would have been a standing reproach, 
that Christians believe they know not what. 
But to expect redemption from the Son of 
God, the resurrection of our bodies from the 



104 INFORMATION, ETC. L. XX. 

same hand which at first created and formed 
them, are rational and well founded acts 'of 
faith ; and it is the Christian's glory, that he 
knows in whom he has believed. 

That the world was made by the Son of 
God, is a proposition with which reason has 
no fault to find : that he who made the 
world should have power to renew it to life 
again, is highly consonant to reason. All 
the mystery lies in this, that so high and 
great a person should condescend to become 
man, and subject to death, for the sake of 
mankind. 

But are we fit persons to complain of this 
transcendent mysterious love ? or does it 
become us to quarrel with the kindness of 
our blessed Lord towards us, only because 
it is greater than we can conceive ? No; it 
becomes us to bless and adore this exceeding 
love, by which we are saved from condem- 
nation, by which we expect to be rescued 
from death ; knowing that the power of our 
blessed Lord is equal to his love, and that 
he is " able to subdue all things to himself." 



105 



LECTURE XXI. 

OMNISCIENCE AND OMNIPRESENCE OF THE 
DEITY, TOGETHER WITH THE IMMENSITY 
OF HIS WORKS. 

I was yesterday, about sun set, walking in 
the open fields, till the night insensibly fell 
upon me. I at first amused myself with all 
the richness and variety of colours which 
appeared in the western part of heaven; in 
proportion as they faded aw 7 ay and went 
out, several stars and planets appeared one 
after another, till the whole firmament was 
in a glow. The blueness of the aether was 
exceedingly heightened and enlivened by 
the season of the year, and the rays of all 
those luminaries that passed through it. 
The galaxy appeared in its most beautiful 
white. To complete the scene, the full 
moon rose at length in that clouded majesty 
which Milton takes notice of, and opened 
to the eye a new picture of nature, which 
was more finely shaded, and disposed among 



106 



OMNISCIENCE AND L. XXL 



softer lights, than that which the sun had 
before discovered to us. 

As I was surveying the moon walking in 
her brightness, and taking her progress 
among the constellations, a thought arose in 
me, which I believe very often perplexes 
and disturbs men of serious and contempla- 
tive natures. David himself fell into it in 
that reflection, " When I consider the hea- 
vens the work of thy fingers, the moon and 
the stars which thou hast ordained, what is 
man that thou art mindful of him, and the 
son of man that thou regardest him ?" In 
the same manner, when I consider that 
infinite host of stars, or, to speak more philo- 
sophically, of suns, w 7 hich were then shining 
upon me, with those innumerable sets of 
planets or worlds which were moving round 
their respective suns ; when I still enlarged 
the idea, and supposed another heaven of 
suns and worlds rising still above this which 
we discovered, and these still enlightened by 
a superior firmament of luminaries, which 
are planted at so great a distance that they 
may appear to the inhabitants of the former 
as the stars do to us; in short, while I pur- 
sued this thought, I could not but reflect on 



OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY. 107 

that little insignificant figure which I myself 
bore amidst the immensity of God's works. 

I could not but look upon myself with 
secret horror, as a being that was not worth 
the smallest regard of one who had so great 
a work under his care and superintendency. 
I was afraid of being overlooked amidst the 
immensity of nature, and lost among that 
infinite variety of creatures which, in all pro- 
bability, swarm through all these immeasur- 
able regions of matter. 

We shall utterly extinguish this melan- 
choly thought, of our being overlooked by 
our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, 
and the infinity of those objects among which 
he seems to be incessantly employed, if we 
consider, in the first place, that he is omni- 
present ; and in the second, that he is om- 
niscient. 

If we consider him in his omnipresence, 
his being passes through, actuates, and sup- 
ports the whole frame of nature. His crea- 
tion, and every part of it, is full of him. 
There is nothing he has made that is either 
so distant, so little, or so inconsiderable, 
which he does not essentially inhabit. His 
substance is within the substance of every 



108 OMNISCIENCE AND L. XXI. 

being, whether materia] or immaterial, and 
as intimately present to it as that being is to 
itself. It would be an imperfection in him 
were he able to move out of one place into 
another, or to draw himself from any thing 
he has created, or from any part of that 
space which he diffused and spread abroad 
to infinity. In short, to speak of him in the 
language of the old philosophers, he is a 
being whose centre is every where, and his 
circumference no where. 

In the second place, he is omniscient, as 
well as omnipresent. His omniscience in- 
deed necessarily and naturally flows from 
his omnipresence. He cannot but be con- 
scious of every motion that arises in the 
whole material world, which he thus essen- 
tially pervades, and of every thought that is 
stirring in the intellectual world, to every 
part of which he is thus intimately united. 

Were the soul separate from the body, 
and with one glance of thought should start 
beyond the bounds of the creation, should it 
for millions of years continue its progress 
through infinite space with the same activity, 
it would still find itself within the embrace 
of its Creator, and encompassed round with 



OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY. 109 

the immensity of the Godhead. While we 
are in the body he is not less present with us, 
because he is concealed from us. " Oh that 
I knew where I might find him ! (says Job). 
Behold I go forward, but he is not there ; 
and backward, but I cannot perceive him : 
on the left hand, where he does work, but I 
cannot behold him : he hideth himself on 
the right hand that I cannot see him." In 
short, reason as well as revelation, assures us 
that he cannot be absent from us, notwith- 
standing he is undiscovered by us. 

In this consideration of God Almighty's 
omnipresence and omniscience, every un- 
comfortable thought vanishes. He cannot 
but regard every thing that has being, espe- 
cially such of his creatures who fear they are 
not regarded by him. He is privy to all their 
thoughts, and to that anxiety of heart in par- 
ticular which is apt to trouble them on this 
occasion ; for, #s it is impossible he should 
overlook any of his creatures, so we may be 
confident that he regards, with an eye of 
mercy, those who endeavour to recommend 
themselves to his notice, and in unfeigned 
humility of heart think themselves unworthy 
that he should be mindful of them. 



110 MOTIVES TO 



LECTURE XXII 



MOTIVES TO PIETY AND VIRTUE, DRAWN 
EROM THE OMNISCIENCE AND OMNIPRES- 
ENCE OE THE DEITY. 



In one of your late papers you had occasion 
to consider the ubiquity of the Godhead, 
and at the same time to show, that as he is 
present to every thing, he cannot but be 
attentive to every thing, and privy to all 
the modes and parts of its existence : or in 
other words, that his omniscience and omni- 
presence are co-existent, and run together 
through the whole infinitude of space. This 
consideration might furnish us with many 
incentives to devotion and motives to mo- 
rality ; but as this subject has been handled 
by several excellent writers, I shall consider 
it in a light in which I have not seen it 
placed by others. 

First. How disconsolate is the condition 
of an intellectual being who is thus present 
with his Maker, but at the same time re- 



PIETY AND VIRTUE. 1 1 1 

ceives no extraordinary benefit or advantage 
from this his presence ! 

Secondly. How deplorable is the con- 
dition of an intellectual being who feels no 
other effects from this his presence but such 
as proceed from divine wrath and indigna- 
tion. 

Thirdly. How happy is the condition of 
that intellectual being who is sensible of his 
Maker's presence from the secret effects of 
his mercy and loving kindness ! 

First. How disconsolate is the condition 
of an intellectual being who is thus present 
with his Maker, but at the same time re- 
ceives no extraordinary benefit or advantage 
from this his presence ! Every particle of 
matter is actuated by this Almighty Being 
who passes through it. The heavens and 
the earth, the stars and the planets, move 
and gravitate by virtue of this great principle 
within them. All the dead parts of nature 
are invigorated by the presence of their 
Creator, and made capable of exerting their 
respective qualities. The several instincts 
in the brute creation do likewise operate 
and work towards the several ends which 



112 MOTIVES TO L. XXII. 

are agreeable to them, by this divine energy. 
Man only, who does not cooperate with his 
Holy Spirit, and is inattentive to his pres- 
ence, receives none of these advantages 
from it, which are perfective of his nature 
and necessary to his well being. The 
divinity is with him, and in him, and every 
where about him, but of no advantage to 
him. It is the same thing to a man without 
religion, as if there were no God in the 
world. It is indeed impossible for an infi- 
nite Being to remove himself from any of 
his creatures; but though he cannot with- 
draw his essence from us, which would 
argue an imperfection in him, he can with- 
draw from us all the joys and consolations 
of it. His presence may perhaps be neces- 
sary to support us in our existence, but he 
may leave this our existence to itself, with 
regard to its happiness or misery. For, in 
this sense, he may cast us away from his 
presence, and take his Holy Spirit from us. 
This single consideration one would think 
sufficient, to make us open our hearts to all 
those infusions of joy and gladness which 
are so near at hand, and ready to be poured 
in upon us; especially when we consider, 



PIETY AND VIRTUE. i 13 

secondly, the deplorable condition of an in- 
tellectual being who feels no other effects 
from his Maker's presence but such as pro- 
ceed from divine wrath and indignation ! 

We may assure ourselves that the great 
Author of nature will not always be as one 
who is indifferent to any of his creatures. 
Those who will not feel him in his love will 
be sure at length to feel him in his displea- 
sure. And how dreadful is the condition of 
that creature who is only sensible of the 
being of his Creator by what he suffers 
from him. 

But I shall only consider the wretched- 
ness of an intellectual being who, in this life, 
lies under the displeasure of him that at all 
times, and in all places, is intimately united 
with him. He is able to disquiet the soul, 
and vex it in all its faculties. He can hin- 
der any of the greatest comforts of life from 
refreshing us, and give an edge to every 
one of its slightest calamities. Who then 
can bear the thought of being an outcast 
from his presence, that is from the comforts 
of it, or of feeling it only in its terrors ? How 
pathetic is that expostulation of Job, when 
for the real trial of his patience he was made 

i 



I 14 MOTIVES TO L. XXII. 

to look upon himself in this deplorable con- 
dition ! " Why hast thou set me as a mark 
against thee, so that I am become a burden 
to myself?" But, thirdly, how happy is 
the condition of that intellectual being who 
is sensible of his Maker's presence from the 
secret effects of his mercy and loving kind- 
ness ! 

The blessed in heaven behold him face to 
face, that is, are as sensible of his presence 
as we are of the presence of any person 
whom we look upon with our eyes. There 
is doubtless a faculty in spirits by which 
they apprehend one another, as our senses 
do material objects; and there is no question 
but our souls, when they are disembodied, 
or placed in glorified bodies, will by this 
faculty, in whatever part of space they 
reside, be always sensible of the divine 
presence. We, who have this veil of flesh 
standing between us and the world of spirits, 
must be content to know the Spirit of God 
is present with us by the effects which he 
produceth in us. Our outward senses are 
too gross to apprehend him ; we may, how- 
ever, taste and see how gracious he is, by his 
influence upon our minds, by those virtuous 



PIETY AND VIRTUE. 115 

thoughts which he awakens in us, by those 
secret comforts and refreshments which he 
conveys into our souls, and by those ravish- 
ing joys and inward satisfactions which are 
perpetually springing up and diffusing them- 
selves among all the thoughts of good men. 
He is lodged in our very essence, and is as a 
soul within the soul, to irritate its under- 
standing, rectify its will, purify its passions, 
and enliven all the powers of man. How r 
happy therefore is an intellectual being 
who, by prayer and meditation, by virtue 
and good works, opens this communication 
between God and- his own soul! Though 
the whole creation frowns upon him, and all 
nature looks black about him, he has his 
light and support within him, that are able 
to cheer his mind and bear him up in the 
midst of all those horrors which encompass 
him. He knows that his helper is at hand, 
and is always nearer to him than any thing 
else can be, w r hich is capable of annoying or 
terrifying him. In the midst of calumny or 
contempt, he attends to that Being who 
whispers better things within his soul, and 
whom he looks upon as his defender, his 
glory, and the lifter up of his head. In his 

i 2 



116 MOTIVES TO L. XXII. 

deepest solitude and retirement, he knows 
that he is in company with the greatest 
of beings; and perceives within himself such 
real sensations of his presence, as are more 
delightful than any thing that can be met 
with in the conversation of his creatures. 
Even in the house of death, he considers 
the pains of his dissolution to be nothing 
else but the breaking down of that partition 
which stands betwixt his soul and the sight 
of that being who is always present with 
him, and is about to manifest itself to him 
in fulness of joy. 

If we would be thus happy, and thus sen- 
sible of our Maker's presence, from the secret 
effects of his mercy and goodness, we must 
keep such a w r atch over all thoughts, that, in 
the language of the Scripture, his soul may 
have pleasure in us. We must take care not 
to grieve his Holy Spirit, and endeavour to 
make the meditations of our hearts always 
acceptable in his sight, that he may delight 
thus to reside and dwell in us. The light 
of nature could direct Seneca to this doc- 
trine, in a very remarkable passage among 
his epistles: — " There is a Holy Spirit 
residing in us, who watches and observes 



PIETY AND VIRTUE. 117 

both good and evil men, and will treat us 
after the same manner that we treat him. ,, 
But I shall conclude this discourse with 
those more emphatical words in divine reve- 
lation : — " If a man love me, he will keep 
my words ; and my Father will love him, 
and we will come unto him, and make our 
abode with him." 



LECTURE XXIII. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF TIME, AND THE PRO 
PER METHODS OF SPENDING IT. 



We all of us complain of the shortness of 
time, saith Seneca, and yet have much 
more than we know what to do with. Our 
lives, says he, are spent either in doing no- 
thing at all, or in doing nothing to the pur- 
pose, or in doing nothing that we ought to 
do. We are always complaining our days 
are few, and acting as though there would 
be no end of them. 

1 often consider mankind as wholly in- 
consistent with itself, in a point that bears 



118 THE IMPORTANCE L. XXIII. 

some affinity to the former. Though we 
seem grieved at the shortness of life in 
general, we are wishing every period of it 
at an end. 

If we divide the life of most men into 
twenty parts, we shall find that at least 
nineteen of them are mere gaps and chasms, 
which are neither filled with pleasure nor 
business. I do not, however, include in 
this calculation the life of those men who 
are in a perpetual hurry of affairs, but of 
those only who are not always engaged in 
scenes of action ; and I hope I shall not do 
an unacceptable service to these persons, if 
I point out to them certain methods for the 
filling up their empty spaces of life. The 
methods I shall propose to them are as fol- 
lows : — 

The first is the exercise of virtue, in the 
most general acceptation of the word. That 
particular scheme which comprehends the 
social virtues may give employment to the 
most industrious temper, and find a man 
business more than the most active station 
of life. To advise the ignorant, relieve the 
needy, comfort the afflicted, are duties that 
fall in our way almost every day of our 



OF TIME. 119 

lives. A man has frequent opportunities of 
mitigating the fierceness of a party; of doing 
justice to the character of a deserving man; 
of softening the envious, quieting the angry, 
and rectifying the prejudiced, which are all 
of them employments suitable to a reason- 
able nature, and bring great satisfaction to 
the person who can busy himself in them 
with discretion. 

There is another kind of virtue that may 
find employment for those retired hours in 
which we are altogether left to ourselves, 
and destitute of company and conversation ; 
I mean that intercourse and communication 
which every reasonable creature ought to 
maintain with the great Author of his being. 
The man who lives under an habitual sense 
of the divine presence, keeps up a perpetual 
cheerfulness of temper, and enjoys, every 
moment, the satisfaction of thinking himself 
in company with his dearest and best of 
friends. The time never lies heavy upon 
him ; it is impossible for him to be alone. 
His thoughts and passions are the most 
busied at such hours when those of other 
men are the most inactive. He no sooner 



120 THE IMPORTANCE L. XXIII. 

steps out of the world, but his heart burns 
with devotion, swells with hope, and tri- 
umphs in the consciousness of that presence 
which every where surrounds him; or, on 
the contrary, pours out its fears, its sorrows, 
its apprehensions, to the great supporter of 
its existence. 

I have here only considered the necessity 
of a man's being virtuous, that he may have 
something to do ; but if we consider farther, 
that the exercise of virtue is not only an 
amusement for the time it lasts, but that its 
influence extends to those parts of our exist- 
ence which lie beyond the grave, and that 
our whole eternity is to take its colour from 
those hours which we here employ in virtue 
or in vice, the argument redoubles upon us 
for putting in practice this method of passing 
away our time. 

When a man has but a little stock to 
improve, and has opportunities of turning it 
all to good account, what shall we think of 
him if he suffers nineteen parts of it to lie 
dead, and perhaps employs even the twen- 
tieth to his ruin or disadvantage ? But be- 
cause the mind cannot be always in its fer- 



OF TIME. 121 

vours, nor strained up to a pitch of virtue, it 
is necessary to find out proper employments 
for it in its relaxations. 

The next method, therefore, that I would 
propose to fill up our time should be useful 
and innocent diversions. I must confess I 
think it is below reasonable creatures to be 
altogether conversant in such diversions as 
are merely innocent, and have nothing else 
to recommend them but that there is no 
hurt in them. Whether any kind of gaming 
has even thus much to say for itself, I shall 
not determine ; but I think it is very won- 
derful to see persons of the best sense, pass- 
ing away a dozen hours together in shuffling 
and dividing a pack of cards, with no other 
conversation but what is made up of a few 
game phrases, and no other ideas but those 
of black or red spots ranged together in 
different figures. Would not a man laugh 
to hear any of this species complaining that 
life is short ? 

The mind never unbends itself so agree- 
ablv as in the conversation of a well chosen 
friend. There is indeed no blessing of life 
that is in any way comparable to the enjoy- 
ment of a discreet and virtuous friend. It 



122 THE IMPORTANCE L. XXIII. 

eases and unloads the mind, clears and im- 
proves the understanding, engenders thought 
and knowledge, animates virtue and good 
resolution, soothes and allays the passions, 
and finds employment for most of the vacant 
hours of life. 

Next to such an intimacy with a par- 
ticular person, one would endeavour after a 
more general conversation with such as are 
capable of edifying, and entertaining, those 
with whom they converse, which are quali- 
ties that seldom go asunder. 

There are many other useful amusements 
of life which one would endeavour to multi- 
ply, that one might on all occasions have 
recourse to something, rather than suffer 
the mind to lie idle, or run adrift with any 
passion that chances to rise in it. 

A man that has a taste in music, paint- 
ing, or architecture, is like one that has 
another sense, when compared with such as 
have no relish of those arts. The florist, the 
planter, the gardener, the husbandman, when 
they are only as accomplishments to the man 
of fortune, are great reliefs to a country life, 
and many ways useful to those who are 
possessed of them. 



OF TIME. 123 

There are many who are filled with 
complaints that " The day hangs heavy on 
them," that " They do not know what to 
do with themselves," that " They are at a 
loss how to pass away their time," with 
many of the like shameful murmurs, which 
we often find in the mouths of those who 
are styled reasonable beings. How mon- 
strous are such expressions among creatures 
who have the labours of the mind, as well 
as those of the body, to furnish them with 
proper employment ; who besides the busi- 
ness of their proper callings and professions, 
can apply themselves to the duties of reli- 
gion, to meditation, to the reading of useful 
books, to discourse ; in a word, who may 
exercise themselves in the unbounded pur- 
suits of knowledge and virtue, and every 
hour of their lives make themselves wiser or 
better than they were before ! 

I shall conclude with recommending self- 
examination. If every one will frequently 
lay his hand upon his heart, and consider 
what he is doing, it will check him in all the 
idle, or what is worse, the vicious moments 
of life, lift up his mind when it is running 
on in a series of indifferent actions, and en- 



124 RULES FOR THE L. XXIV. 

courage him when he is engaged in those 
which are virtuous and laudable. In a word, 
it will very much alleviate that guilt which 
the best of men have reason to acknowledge 
in their daily confessions, of " leaving un- 
done those things which they ought to have 
done, and of doing those things which they 
ought not to have done." 



LECTURE XXIV. 

RULES FOR THE KNOWLEDGE OF ONES 
SELF. 

Hypocrisy at the fashionable end of the 
town is very different from that in the city. 
The modish hypocrite endeavours to appear 
more vicious than he really is; the other 
kind of hypocrite more virtuous. The for- 
mer is afraid of every thing that has the show 
of religion in it; the latter assumes a sanctity, 
and covers a multitude of vices under a 
seeming religious deportment. 

But there is another kind of hypocrisy 
which differs from both these. I mean that 
hypocrisy by which a man does not only 



KNOWLEDGE OF ONK's SELF. \25 

deceive the world, but very often imposes 
on himself; that hypocrisy which conceals 
his own heart from him, and makes him be- 
lieve he is more virtuous than he really is, 
and either not attend to his vices, or mis- 
take even his vices for virtues. It is this 
fatal hypocrisy and self deceit which is 
taken notice of in these words, " Who can 
understand his errors ? cleanse thou me from 
my secret faults." 

I shall therefore endeavour to lay down 
some rules for the discovery of those vices 
that lurk in the secret corners of the soul; 
and to show my reader those methods by 
which he may arrive at a true and impartial 
knowledge of himself. The best means pre- 
scribed for this purpose are, to examine our- 
selves by the rules which are laid down for 
our direction in sacred writ, and to compare 
our lives with the life of that person who 
acted up to the perfection of human nature, 
and is the standing example, as well as the 
great guide and instructor, of those who re- 
ceive his doctrines. And in addition to 
these two methods, I propose the following 
to the consideration of such as would find 
out their secret faults. 



126 RULES FOR THE L. XXIV. 

In the first place, let them consider well 
what are the characters which they bear 
among their enemies. Our friends very 
often flatter us as much as our own hearts. 
They either do not see our faults, or conceal 
them from us, or soften them by their repre- 
sentations, after such a manner that we 
think them too trivial to be taken notice of. 
An adversary, on the contrary, makes a 
stricter search into us, discovers every flaw 
and imperfection in our tempers; and though 
his malice may set them in too strong a light, 
it has generally some ground for what it ad- 
vances. A friend exaggerates a man's vir- 
tues, an enemy inflames his crimes. Plu- 
tarch has written an essay on the benefits 
which a man may receive from his enemies; 
and among the good fruits of enmity, men- 
tions this in particular, " that by the re- 
proaches which it casts upon us, we see the 
worst side of ourselves, and open our eyes 
to several blemishes and defects in our lives 
and conversations, which we should not 
have observed without the help of such ill- 
natured monitors." 

In order likewise to come to a true know- 
ledge of ourselves, we should consider on 



KNOWLEDGE OF ONE'S SELF. 1 27 

the other hand, how far we may deserve the 
praises and approbations which the world 
bestows upon us; whether our actions pro- 
ceed from laudable and worthy motives. 

In the next place, that we may not de- 
ceive ourselves in a point of so much im- 
portance, we should not lay too great a stress 
on any supposed virtues we possess that are 
of a doubtful nature ; and such we may 
esteem all those in which multitudes of men 
dissent from us, who are as good and wise 
as ourselves. We should always act with 
great cautiousness and circumspection on 
points where it is not impossible that we 
may be deceived. Intemperate zeal ? bigo- 
try, and persecution, for any party or opinion, 
how praiseworthy soever they may appear 
to weak men of our own principles, produce 
infinite calamities among mankind, and are 
highly criminal in their own nature; and 
yet how many persons, eminent for piety, 
suffer such monstrous and absurd principles 
of action to take root in their minds under 
the colour of virtues: 

We should likewise be very apprehensive 
of those actions which proceed from natural 
constitution, favourite passions, particular 



128 RULES FOR THE L. XXIV. 

education, or whatever promotes our worldly 
interest or advantage. In these, or the like 
cases, a man's judgment is easily perverted, 
and a wrong bias hung upon his mind. 
These are the inlets of prejudice, the un- 
guarded avenues of the mind, by which a 
thousand errors and secret faults find admis- 
sion, without being observed or taken no- 
tice of. 

There is nothing of greater importance to 
us than thus diligently to sift our thoughts, 
and examine all these dark recesses of the 
mind ; if we would establish our souls in such 
a solid and substantial virtue as will turn to 
account in that great day, when it must 
stand the test of infinite wisdom and jus- 
tice. 

I shall conclude with observing, that the 
two kinds of hypocrisy I have here spoken 
of, namely, that of deceiving the world, and 
that of imposing on ourselves, are touched 
with wonderful beautv in the hundred and 
thirty-ninth Psalm. The folly of the first 
kind of hypocrisy is there set forth by reflec- 
tions on God's omniscience and omnipre- 
sence, which are celebrated in as noble 
strains of poetry as any other I ever met 



KNOWLEDGE OF ONE'S SELF. 129 

with, either sacred or profane. The other 
kind of hypocrisy, whereby a man deceives 
himself, is intimated in the two last verses, 
where the Psalmist addresses himself to the 
great searcher of hearts in that emphatical 
petition, " Try me, O God, and seek the 
ground of my heart; prove me and examine 
my thoughts : look well if there be any way 
of wickedness in me, and lead me in the 
way everlasting." 



LECTURE XXV, 



EARLY PIETY. 



Youth is the season of warm and generous 
emotions ; the heart should then spontane- 
ously rise into the admiration of what is 
great ; glow with the love of what is fair 
and excellent ; and melt at the discovery of 
tenderness and goodness. Where can any 
object be found so proper to kindle those 
affections as the Father of the Universe and 
the Author of all felicity ? Unmoved by 
veneration, can you contemplate that gran- 

K 



1H) EARLY PIETY. L. XXV. 

deur and majesty which his works every- 
where display? Untouched by gratitude, 
can you view that profusion of good which 
his beneficent hand pours around you ? 
Happy in the love and affection of those 
with whom you are connected, look up to 
the Supreme Being, as the inspirer of all the 
friendship which has ever been shown to 
you by others; himself your best and your 
first friend, formerly the supporter of your 
infancy and the guide of your childhood; 
now, the guardian of your youth, and the 
hope of your coming years. View religious 
homage as a natural expression of gratitude 
to him for all his goodness, and let it be 
with you, not the cold and barren offspring 
of speculation, but the warm and vigorous 
dictate of the heart. 

Impress your mind with reverence for 
all that is sacred. Let no wantonness of 
youthful spirits, no compliance with the in- 
temperate mirth of others, ever betray you 
into profane sallies ; besides the guilt which 
is thereby incurred, nothing gives a more 
odious appearance of presumption to youth 
than the affectation of treating religion with 
levity : instead of being an evidence of supe- 



EARLY PIETY. 131 

rior understanding, it discovers a pert and 
shallow mind, which, vain of the first smat- 
terings of knowledge, presumes to make 
light of what the best of mankind revere. 
Discover on every proper occasion that you 
are not ashamed of your religion ; but avoid 
making any unnecessary ostentation of it 
before the world. 



LECTURE XXVI. 

CONSOLATION OF RELIGION UNDER TRIALS. 

Religion incontestibly triumphs when we 
consider it in the light of consolation ; as 
bringing aid and relief to us amidst the dis- 
tresses of life; and its happy effects in this 
respect furnish a strong argument, to every 
benevolent mind, for wishing them to be 
farther diffused throughout the world. For 
without the belief and hope afforded by 
divine revelation, the circumstances of man 
are extremely forlorn. He is conscious that 
his being is frail and feeble ; he sees himself 
beset with various dangers, and is exposed 

k 2 



132 CONSOLATION OF L. XXVI. 

to many a melancholy apprehension, from 
the evils which he may have to encounter 
before he arrives at the close of life. In 
this distressed condition to reveal to him 
such discoveries of the Supreme Being as 
the Christian religion affords, is to reveal to 
him a father and a friend ; is to let in a ray 
of the most cheering light upon the dark- 
ness of the human estate. He who was 
before a destitute orphan, wandering in the 
inhospitable desert, has now gained a shelter 
from the bitter and inclement blast. He 
now knows to whom to pray, and in whom 
to trust, where to unbosom his sorrows, and 
from what hand to look for relief. 

It is certain that when the heart bleeds > 
from some wound of recent misfortune, no- 
thing is of equal efficacy with religious com- 
fort. It is of power to enlighten the darkest 
hour, and to assuage the severest woe by 
the belief of divine favour, and the prospect 
of a blessed immortality. In such hopes 
the mind expatiates with joy ; and when 
bereaved of its earthly friends, solaces itself 
with the thoughts of one friend who will 
never forsake it. This is an anchor to the 
soul both sure and steadfast. 



RELIGION UNDER TRIALS. 133 

Upon the approach of death especially, 
when if* a man thinks at all, his anxiety 
about his future interests must naturally in- 
crease, the power of religious consolation is 
sensibly felt. Then appears, in the most 
striking light, the high value of the discove- 
ries made by the Gospel ; not only life and 
immortality revealed, but a Mediator with 
God discovered; mercy proclaimed, through 
him, to the frailties of the penitent and the 
humble; and his presence promised to be 
with them when they are passing through 
the valley of the shadow of death, in order 
to bring them safe into unseen habitations 
of rest and joy. Here is ground for their 
leaving the world with comfort and peace. 
But in this severe and trying period, this 
labouring hour of nature, how shall the un- 
happy man support himself, who knows not, 
or believes not, the hope of religion ? Secretly 
conscious to himself that he has not acted 
his part as he ought to have done, the sins 
of his past life arise before him in sad re- 
membrance. The Governor of the world 
is unknown. He cannot tell whether every 
endeavour to obtain his mercy may not be 
in vain. All is awful obscurity around him; 



1:34 GENTLENESS. L. XXVII. 

and in the midst of endless doubts and per- 
plexities, the trembling reluctant soul is 
forced away from the body. As the mis- 
fortunes of life must, to such a man, have 
been most oppressive, so its end is bitter ; 
his sun sets in a dark cloud, and the night of 
death closes over his head, full of misery. 



LECTURE XXVII. 

GENTLENESS. 

Gentleness corrects whatever is offensive 
in our manners ; and, by a constant train of 
humane attentions, studies to alleviate the 
burden of common misery. 

That gentleness which is the characteristic 
of a good man, has, like every other virtue, 
its seat in the heart : and let me add, no- 
thing except what flows from it can render 
even external manners truly pleasing, for no 
assumed behaviour can at all times hide the 
real character. 

Years may pass over our heads without 
affording any opportunities for acts of high 



GENTLENESS. 135 

beneficence or extensive utility : whereas 
not a day passes, but in the common transac- 
tions of life, and especially in the intercourse 
of domestic society, gentleness finds place 
for promoting the happiness of others, and 
for strengthening in ourselves the habit of 
virtue : nay, by seasonable discoveries of a 
humane spirit we sometimes contribute more 
materially to the advancement of happiness 
than by actions that are more seemingly 
important. There are situations, not a few, 
in human life, where the encouraging recep- 
tion, the condescending behaviour, and the 
look of sympathy, bring greater relief to the 
heart than the most bountiful gift : while, 
on the other side, when the hand of libe- 
rality is extended to bestow the want of 
gentleness is sufficient to frustrate the inten- 
tion of the benefit ; we sour those whom we 
meant to oblige, and by conferring favours 
with ostentation and harshness, we convert 
them into injuries. 

Gentleness is, in truth, the great avenue 
to mutual enjoyment. Amidst the strife of 
interfering interests, it tempers the violence 
of contention, and keeps alive the seeds of 
harmony ; it softens animosity, renews en- 



136 GENTLENESS. L. XXVfl. 

dearments, and renders the countenance of 
a man, a refreshment to a man. 

Whatever ends a good man can be sup- 
posed to pursue, gentleness will be found to 
favour them ; it prepossesses and wins every 
heart ; it persuades, when every other argu- 
ment fails; often disarms the fierce, and 
melts the stubborn : whereas harshness con- 
firms the opposition it would subdue; and, 
of an indifferent person, creates an enemy. 

As soon may the waves of the sea cease 
to roll, as provocations to arise from human 
corruption and frailty. Attacked by great 
injuries, the man of mild and gentle spirit 
will feel what human nature feels, and will 
defend and resent as his duty allows him: 
but to those slight provocations and frivolous 
offences which are the most frequent causes 
of disquiet, he is happily superior; taught 
to regard with indulgent eye, the frailties 
of men ; the omissions of the careless, the 
follies of the imprudent, and the levity of 
the fickle, he retreats into the calmness of 
his spirit, as into an undisturbed sanctuary, 
and quietly allows the usual current of life 
to hold its course. 

But gentleness will, most of all, be pro- 



GENTLENESS. 137 

moted by frequent views of those great ob- 
jects which our holy religion presents ; let 
the prospects of immortality fill your minds; 
look upon this world as a state of passage; 
consider yourselves as engaged in the pur- 
suit of higher interests, as acting now, under 
the eye of God, an introductory part to a 
more important scene: elevated by such 
sentiments, your minds will become calm 
and sedate, you will look down, as from a 
superior station, on the petty disturbances of 
the world. 

Aided by such considerations, let us culti- 
vate that gentle wisdom which is, in so many 
respects, important both to our duty and 
our happiness : let us assume it as the orna- 
ment of every age, and of every station; let 
it temper the petulance of youth, and soften 
the moroseness of old age; let it mitigate 
authority in those who rule, and promote 
deference among those who obey. 

I conclude with the caution, not to mis- 
take for true gentleness that flimsy imitation 
of it called polished manners, which often, 
among the men of the world, under a 
smooth appearance, conceals much asperity : 
let yours be native gentleness of the heart, 



138 



GENTLENESS. L. XXVII. 



flowing from the love of God and the love 
of man. Unite this amiable spirit with a 
proper zeal for all that is right and just and 
true: let piety be combined in your charac- 
ter with humanity ; let determined integrity 
dwell in a mild and gentle breast. A charac- 
ter thus supported will command more real 
respect than can be procured by the most 
shining accomplishments, when separated 
from virtue. 



LECTURE XXVIII. 

MATT. CHAP. III. 

The subject of this Lecture will be the third 
chapter of St. Matthew, in which we have 
the history of a very extraordinary person 
called John the Baptist; to distinguish him 
from John the Evangelist. 

As the character of John the Baptist is 
in many respects a very remarkable one, 
and his appearance bears a strong testimony 
to the divine mission of Christ, and the 
truth of his religion, I shall give some par- 
ticulars of his history. 
41 St. Matthew's account of him is as fbl- 



MATT. CHAP. III. 139 

lows: " In those days came John the Bap- 
tist, preaching in the wilderness of Judea, 
and saying, Repent ye, for the kingdom of 
heaven is at hand. For this is he that was 
spoken of by the Prophet Isaiah, saying, 
prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his 
paths straight. And the same John had his 
raiment of camel's hair, and a leathern 
girdle about his loins, and his meat was 
locusts and wild honey. And there went 
out to him Jerusalem and all Judea, and all 
the regions round about Jordan, and were 
baptized of him in Jordan confessing their 
sins." 

Here then we have a person, who appears 
to have been sent into the world on pur- 
pose to be the precursor of our Lord, to 
prepare the way for him and his religion, 
here called the kingdom of heaven, and, as the 
prophet expresses it, to make his paths straight ; 
that is, to remove out of the minds of men 
every thing that opposed itself to the ad- 
mission of divine truth, all prejudice, blind- 
ness, pride, obstinacy, self conceit, vanity, 
and vain philosophy ; but above all, to sub- 
due and regulate those depraved affections, 
appetites, passions, and inveterate habits of 



140 MATT. CHAP. III. L. XXVIII. 

wickedness, which are the grand obstacles 
to conversion and the reception of the word 
of God. 

His exhortation therefore was, " Repent 
ye;" renounce those vices and abominations 
which at present blind your eyes and cloud 
your understandings, and then you will be 
able to see the truth and bear the light. 

The place which John chose for the exer- 
cise of his ministry was the wilderness of 
Judea; here he lived with great austerity, 
for he drank neither wine nor strong drink, 
and his meat was locusts and wild honey. 
The clothing of the Baptist was no less 
simple than his diet : his raiment was of 
camel's hair, with a leathern girdle about 
his loins. 

The abstemiousness and rigour of the 
Baptist's life was calculated to produce very 
important effects. It was fitted to excite 
great attention and reverence in the minds 
of his hearers. It was well suited to the 
doctrine he was to preach, that of repentance 
and contrition. And perhaps it was further 
designed to intimate the need there often is 
of harsh restraints in the beginning of virtue, 
as the easy familiarity of our Lord's manner 



MATT. CHAP. III. 141 

and behaviour exhibits the delightful free- 
dom which attends the perfection of it. 

It is remarkable, however, that whatever 
mortifications John practised himself, it does 
not appear that he prescribed any thing to 
others beyond the ordinary duties of a good 
life. His general injunction was only, "bring 
forth fruits meet for repentance." When 
more particular directions were desired, he, 
commanded all sorts of men to avoid more 
especially the sins to which their condition 
most exposed them. Thus when the people 
asked him (the common people of that hard 
hearted nation) " What shall we do ?" John 
answered, " He that hath two coats let him 
impart to him that hath none ; and he that 
hath meat, let him do likewise. " That is, 
let every one of you, according to his abili- 
ties, exercise those duties of charity and 
kindness to his neighbour, which you are all 
of you but too apt to neglect. The publi- 
cans, or farmers of the revenue, came to him 
and said, " Master, what shall we do ?" And 
he said, " Exact no more than that which is 
appointed you/' Keep clear from that 
rapine and extortion of which you are so 
often guilty in the collection of the revenue. 



142 MATT. CHAP. III. L. XXVIII. 

The soldiers too demanded of him, " What 
shall we do ?" his answer was, " Do violence 
to no man, neither accuse any falsely, and 
be content with your wages." That is, ab- 
stain from those acts of injustice, violence, 
and oppression, to which your profession too 
often leads you. And therefore what he 
taught was not ceremonial observances, but 
moral conduct on religious principle ; and 
without this, he pronounced the highest out- 
ward privileges to be of no value at all. 

Such were the doctrines which John 
preached to his disciples, and the success 
which attended him was equal to their mag- 
nitude and importance. 

Far from desiring or attempting to fix the 
admiration of the multitude on his own per- 
son, he gave notice, from his first appear- 
ance, of another immediately to follow him, 
for whom he was unworthy to perform the 
most servile offices. 

Of such unaffected and disinterested hu- 
mility as this, where shall we find, except in 
Christ, another instance ? Yet with this 
was by no means united what we are too 
apt to associate with our idea of humility, 
meanness and timidity of spirit ; on the con- 



MATT. CHAP. III. 143 

traiy, the whole conduct of the Baptist was 
marked throughout with the most intrepid 
courage and magnanimity in the discharge 
of his duty. 

Instead of paying any court either to the 
great men of his nation on the one hand, or 
to the multitude on the other, he reproved 
the former for their hypocrisy in the strong- 
est terms; " O generation of vipers, who hath 
warned vou to flee from the wrath to come?" 
And he required the latter to renounce every 
one of those favourite sins which they had 
long indulged, and were most unwilling to 
part with. But what is still more, he re- 
proved, without fear and without reserve, 
the abandoned and ferocious Herod, for 
injuriously taking away Herodias his bro- 
ther's wife ; although he well knew that 
this boldness of expostulation would sooner 
or later bring down upon him the whole 
weight of his resentment. But knowing 
also, that he was sent into the world to 
preach repentance to all, and feeling it his 
duty to cry aloud and spare not, to spare 
not even the greatest and most exalted of 
sinners, he determined not to shrink from 



144 MATT. CHAP. III. L. XXVIII. 

that duty, but to obey his conscience, and 
take the consequences. 

These consequences were exactly what 
he must have foreseen. He was first shut 
up in prison ; and not long afterwards, as you 
all know, the life of this great and innocent 
man was wantonly sacrificed. 

After this short history of the doctrines, 
the life, and the death of this extraordinary 
man, I shall conclude, with a few remarks 
upon it for your serious consideration. 

And in the first place, in the testimony of 
John the Baptist we have an additional and 
powerful evidence to the truth and the di- 
vine authority of Christ and his religion. 

It appears, too, that John was a person 
of whose virtue, integrity, and piety, we 
have the most ample testimony from an his- 
torian of unquestionable veracity, and we 
may therefore rely with perfect confidence 
on every thing he tells us. He was the 
very man foretold both by Isaiah and Mala- 
chi, as the forerunner of that divine person- 
age whom the Jews expected under the 
name of the Messiah. He declared that 
Jesus Christ was this divine person, and that 



MATT. CHAP. III. 145 

he himself was sent into the world on pur- 
pose to prepare the way before him, by 
exhorting men to repentance and reforma- 
tion of life. Every thing he said of Jesus, 
instead of aggrandizing and exalting himself, 
tended to lower and to debase him in the 
eyes of all the world; he assured the multi- 
tude that followed him that there was ano- 
ther person much more worthy to be fol- 
lowed; that there was one coming after 
him of far greater consequence and dignity 
than himself; one whose shoe latchets he 
was not worthy to unloose ; one so infinitely 
superior to him in rank, authority, and wis- 
dom, that he was not fit to perform for him 
even the most servile offices. He himself 
was only come as an humble messenger to 
announce the arrival of his Lord, and smooth 
the way before him. But the great person- 
age to whom they were to direct their eyes, 
and in whom they were to centre all their 
hopes, was Jesus Christ, 

But besides bearing this honest and dis- 
interested testimony to Christ, the Baptist 
hazarded a measure which no impostor or 
enthusiast ever ventured upon without being 
immediately detected and exposed : he ven- 



146 MATT. CHAP. III. L. XXVIII. 

tured to deliver two prophecies concerning 
Christ; prophecies too which were to he 
completed, not at some distant period, when 
both he and his hearers might be in their 
graves, and the prophecy itself forgot, but 
within a very short space of time, when 
every one who heard the prediction might 
be a witness to its accomplishment or its 
failure. He foretold that Jesus should baptize 
with the Holy Ghost and with fire, and that he 
should be offered up as a sacrifice for the sins of 
mankind. Both these prophecies were actu- 
ally accomplished within a very few years 
after they were delivered; for our Lord 
suffered death upon the cross for the re- 
demption of the world ; and the Holy Ghost 
descended visibly upon the apostles in the 
semblance of fire on the dav of Pentecost. 

It is evident then that the Baptist was 
not only a good man, but a true prophet ; 
and for both reasons his testimony in favour 
of Christ, that he was the Son of God, affords 
an incontestable proof that both he and his 
religion came from heaven. 

The history of the Baptist affords a proof 
also of another point of no small importance. 
It gives a strong confirmation to that great 



. MATT. CHAP. III. , 147 

evangelical doctrine, the doctrine of atone- 
ment, the expiation of our sins by the sacri- 
fice of Christ upon the cross. 

We are often told that there was no need 
for this expiation. That repentance and 
reformation are fully sufficient to restore the 
most abandoned sinners to the favour of a 
just and merciful God, and to avert the 
punishment due to their offences. 

But what does the great herald and fore- 
runner of Christ say to this I He came pro- 
fessedly as a preacher of repentance. This 
was his peculiar office, the great object of 
his mission, the constant topic of his exhor- 
tations — " Repent ye, and bring forth fruits 
meet for repentance." This was the un- 
ceasing language of " the voice crying in 
the wilderness." 

If then repentance alone had sufficient 
efficacy for the expiation of sin, surely we 
should have heard of this from him who 
came on purpose to preach repentance. 
But what is the case ? Does he tell us that 
repentance alone will take away the guilt of 
our transgressions, and justify us in the eyes 
of our Maker? Quite the contrary. Not- 
withstanding the great stress he justly lays 

l 2 



148 MATT. CHAP. III. L. XXVIII. 

on the indispensable necessity of repentance, 
yet he tells his followers, at the same time, 
that it was to Christ only, and to his death, 
that they were to look for the pardon of 
their sins. *.* Behold/' says he, " the Lamb 
of God, which taketh away the sins of the 
world !" And again, " he that believe th 
on the Son hath everlasting life ; and he 
that believeth not the Son hath not life, but 
the wrath of God abideth on him." Since 
then the expiation of sin by the sacrifice of 
Christ is a doctrine not only taught in the 
Gospel itself, but enforced also by him who 
came only to prepare the way for it, it is 
evident, from the care taken to apprise the 
world of it even before Christianity was pro- 
mulgated, how important and essential a 
part this must be of that divine religion. 

John's exhortation was " Repent ye, for the 
kingdom of heaven is at hand." Till you 
have done this, till you have purified your 
hearts and abandoned your sins, my bap- 
tism will be of no use to you. In perfect 
conformity to this, Josephus informs us that 
John exhorted the Jews not to come to his 
baptism without first preparing themselves 
for it by the practice of virtue, by a strict ad- 



MATT. CHAP. III. 149 

herence to the rules of equity and justice in 
their dealings with one another, and by 
manifesting a sincere piety towards God. 

This is the preparation he required. It 
is not in general the want of evidence, but 
the want of virtue, that makes men infidels; 
let them cease to be wicked, and they will 
soon cease to be unbelievers. " It is with 
the heart," says St. Paul (not with the head), 
" that man believeth unto righteousness.'* 
Correct the heart, and all will go right. 
Unless the soil is good, all the seed you cast 
upon it will be wasted in vain. Unbelievers 
complain of the mysteries of revelation; but 
we have the highest authority for saying, 
that, in general, the only mystery which pre- 
vents them from receiving it is the mystery 
of iniquity. 

On this authority, then, we may securely 
rely, and may rest assured that whatever 
pretences may be set up for rejecting revela- 
tion, the grand obstacles to it are indolence, 
indifference, vice, passion, prejudice, self- 
conceit, pride, vanity, love of singularity, a 
disdain to think with the vulgar, and an 
ambition to be considered as superior to the 
rest of mankind in genius, penetration, and 



150 MATT. CHAP. III. L. XXVIII. 

discernment. These (to make use of pro- 
phetic language) are the mountains that must 
be made low ; these the crooked paths that 
must be made straight ; these the rough 
places that must be made plain. Then all 
difficulties will be removed, and there will 
be a high way for our God. Then 
there will be a smooth and easy approach 
for the Gospel to the understanding, as well 
as to the heart; there will be nothing to 
oppose its conquest over the soul. The 

GLORY OF THE LoRD SHALL FULLY BE RE- 
VEALED, ANI> ALL FLESH SHALL SEE IT. 



LECTURE XXIX. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. IV. LATTER PART. 

In the latter part of this chapter an account 
is given of the first opening of our blessed 
Lord's ministry, by his preaching, by his 
choosing a few companions to attend him, 
and by his beginning to work miracles. 

On this undertaking our Lord now en- 
tered ; and we are informed by St. Matthew, 



MATT. CHAP. IV. 151 

in the seventeenth verse of this chapter, in 
what manner he first announced himself and 
his religion to the world. His first address 
to the people was similar to that of the 
Baptist, Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven 
is at hand. The very first qualification he 
required of those who aspired to be his dis- 
ciples was repentance^ a sincere contrition for 
all past offences, and a resolution to re- 
nounce in future every species of sin ; for 
sin, he well knew, would be the grand obsta- 
cle to the reception of his Gospel. " Put off 
all thy vicious habits," says Christ, to every 
one that aspires to be his disciple; " for the 
religion thou art to embrace is a holy re- 
ligion, and the God thou art to serve is of 
purer eyes than to behold evil, and cannot 
even look upon iniquity. " The preparation 
for receiving the Christian religion is the 
preparation of the heart. The discipline re- 
quired for a participation of its privileges is 
the mortification of sin, the sacrifice of every 
guilty propensity and desire. 

Our Saviour then proceeds to select and 
associate to himself a certain number of 
persons, who were to be his assistants and 



152 MATT. CHAP. IV. L. XXIX. 

coadjutors in the establishment and the ad- 
ministration of his heavenly kingdom. 

And we find that not the wise, not the 
mighty, not the noble, were called to co- 
operate with him ; but men of the meanest 
birth, of the lowest occupations, of the hum- 
blest talents, and most uncultivated minds. 
He chose, as the apostle expresses it, " the 
foolish things of the world to confound the 
wise, and the weak things of the world to 
confound the things which are mighty ; that 
his religion might not be established by the 
enticing words of man's wisdom, but by 
demonstration of the Spirit and of power; 
that our faith should not stand in the wisdom 
of men, but in the power of God/' 

Here then began that demonstration 

OF THE SPIRIT AND OF POWER, which Was 

to be the grand basis of his new kingdom, 
the great evidence of his heavenly mission. 

Our Lord knew that it was highly proper 
and indispensably necessary to give some 
evidence of his divine commission; to do 
something which should satisfy the world 
that he was the Son of God, and the dele- 
gate of heaven. And how could he do 



MATT. CHAP. IV. 153 

this so effectually as by performing works 
which it utterly exceeded all the strength 
and ability of man to accomplish, and which 
nothing less than the hand of God himself 
could possibly bring to pass? In other 
words, the proofs he gave of his mission 
were those astonishing miracles which are 
recorded in the Gospel, and which St. Mat- 
thew mentions in the twenty-third verse of 
this chapter: "And Jesus went about all 
Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and 
preaching the Gospel of the kingdom, and 
healing all manner of sickness and all man- 
ner of disease among the people." 

This then is the primary, the fundamen- 
tal evidence of his divine authority, which 
our Lord was pleased to give to his followers. 
His first application was to their hearts. 
" Repent ye," lay aside your vices and 
your prejudices. Till this was done, till 
these grand obstacles to the admission of 
truth were removed, he well knew that all 
he could say and all he could do would have 
no effect ; they would not be moved either 
by his exhortations or his miracles ; " they 
would not be persuaded though one rose 
from the dead." The way being thus clear- 



154 



MATT. CHAP. IV. L. XXIX, 



ed, the evidence was then produced, and 
the effect it had was such as might have 
been expected, for St. Matthew tells us 
that his fame went throughout all Syria; 
and that there followed him great multitudes 
of people from Galilee, and from Decapolis, 
and from Jerusalem, and from Judea, and 
from beyond Jordan ; that is, from every 
quarter of his own country and the ad- 
joining nations. 

And indeed it can be no wonder that 
such multitudes were convinced and con- 
verted by what they saw. The wonder 
would have been if they had not. To those 
who were themselves eyewitnesses of his 
miracles, they must have been (except in 
a few instances of inveterate depravity of 
heart) irresistible proofs of his divine mission. 
When they saw him give eyes to the blind, 
feet to the lame, health to the sick, and 
even life to the dead, by speaking only a 
few words, what other conclusion could thev 
possibly draw than that which the centurion 
did, truly this ivas the Son of God f 

These miracles are recorded in four diffe- 
rent histories, written very near the same 
time of their being performed, by four diffe- 



MATT. CHAP. IV. 155 

rent men, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; 
two of whom saw these miracles with their 
own eves; the other two had their account 
from them who d*d the same, and affirm 
" that they had a perfect knowledge of every 
thing they relate. " 

Nor is there any reason to doubt whether 
the writings we now have under their names 
are those which they actually wrote. They 
have been received as such ever since they 
were published ; nor has any one argument 
been yet produced against their authenticity 
which has not been repeatedly and effec- 
tually confuted. 

It is a very strong circumstance in favour 
of our Saviour's miracles, that they were 
related by contemporary historians, by those 
who were eyewitnesses of them, and were 
afterwards acknowledged to be true by those 
who lived nearest to the times in which they 
were wrought; and what is still more to the 
point, by many who were hostile to the 
Christian religion. 

Unless we admit that the Founder of our 
religion did actually work the miracles as- 
cribed to him by his historians, it is utterly 



156 MATT. CHAP. IV. L. XXIX. 

impossible to account for the success and 
establishment of his religion. 

Consider only for a moment what the 
apparent condition of our Lord was when 
he first announced his mission among the 
Jews, what his pretensions and what his 
doctrines were, and then judge what kind 
of a reception he must have met with among 
the Jews, had his preaching been accom- 
panied by no miracles. 

He called upon this people to renounce 
at once a great part of the religion of their 
forefathers, and to adopt that which he pro- 
posed to them. Instead of exterior forms, 
he prescribed sanctity of manners; instead 
of washing their hands, and making clean 
their platters, he commanded them to purify 
their hearts and reform their lives. Instead 
of indulging in ease and luxury, he called 
upon them to take up their cross and follow 
him through sorrows and sufferings ; to 
pluck out a right eye, and to cut off a right 
arm ; to leave father, mother, brethren, and 
sisters, for his name's sake and the Gospel. 

He convinced then his hearers by- the 
miracles he wrought, that all power in hea- 



MATT. CHAP. IV. 157 

ven and in earth was given to him, and that 
every precept he delivered, and every doc- 
trine he taught, was the voice of God him- 
self. Without this it is utterly impossible to 
give any rational account of his success. 

The miracles of our Lord were not merely 
transient acts, beheld at the moment with 
astonishment, but forgot as soon as over, 
and productive of no important conse- 
quences. They gave birth to a new religion, 
to a new mode of worship, to several new 
and singular institutions, such as the rite of 
baptism, the sacrament of the Lord's Sup- 
per, the appropriation of the first day of the 
week to sacred purposes, and other things 
of the same nature. Now this religion and 
these institutions subsist to this dav. And 
as the books of the New Testament affirm 
that this religion and these institutions were 
first established, and afterward made their 
way by the power of miracles, they are 
standing testimonies to the truth and the 
reality of those miracles, without which they 
could never have taken such deep root at 
the first, and continued unshaken through 
so many ages to the present time. 



158 MATT. CHAP. IV. L. XXIX. 

When therefore we put together all these 
considerations, they can leave no doubt on 
any unprejudiced mind that the account 
given in this chapter of the commence- 
ment of our Saviour's ministry, and the 
reasons of his astonishing success, are per- 
fectly accurate and true; namely, "that he 
went about all Galilee, teaching in the 
synagogues, and preaching the Gospel of 
the kingdom, and healing all manner of 
disease among the people." And our con- 
clusion from this must necessarily be the 
same with that of the great Jewish ruler, 
who, with a laudable anxietv to know the 
truth, came to Jesus by night, and addressed 
him in these words: "Rabbi, we' know that 
thou art a teacher come from God ; for no 
man can do these miracles that thou doest except 
God be with him." 






159 



LECTURE XXX. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. V. 

Our blessed Lord, having, by his miracles, 
established his divine authority, and ac- 
quired a right to the attention of his hearers, 
and a powerful influence over their minds, 
proceeds in the next place to explain to 
them in some degree the nature of his reli- 
gion, the duties it enjoins, and the disposi- 
tions it requires. This he does in what is 
commonly called his Sermon, on the Mount; 
and we may venture to say it contains a 
greater variety of new, important, and ex- 
cellent moral precepts, than is any where 
to be found in the same compass. 

Our Saviour begins with describing those 
dispositions and virtues which mark the 
Christian character, in which the Gospel 
peculiarly delights, but which the world 
despises and rejects. 

" Blessed," says he, ei are the poor in 
spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God. 



160 MATT. CHAP. V. L. XXX. 

" Blessed are they that mourn, for they 
shall be comforted. 

" Blessed are the meek, for they shall in- 
herit the earth. 

" Blessed are they which do hunger and 
thirst after righteousness, for they shall be 
filled. 

" Blessed are the merciful, for they shall 
obtain mercy, 

" Blessed are the pure in heart, for they 
shall see God. 

" Blessed are the peace-makers, for they 
shall be called the children of God. 

<4 Blessed are they which are persecuted 
for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the king- 
dom of heaven. 

" Blessed are ye when men shall revile 
you, and persecute you, and shall say all 
manner of evil against you falsely for my 
sake ; rejoice and be exceeding glad, for 
great is your reward in heaven." 

It is evident that our Lord here meant, 
at the very outset of his public instructions, 
to mark at once, in the strongest and most 
decided terms, the peculiar temper, spirit, 
and character of his religion ; and to show 
to his disciples how completely opposite 



MATT. CHAP. V. 161 

they were to all those splendid and popular 
qualities which were the great objects of 
admiration and applause to the heathen 
world, and are still too much so, even to 
the Christian world. 

I request your attention to one particular 
part of our Lord's exordium, which requires 
a little explanation. 

The part is this—" Blessed are the meek, 
for they shall inherit the earth." 

By inheriting the earth our Lord meant 
those things which are, without question, 
the greatest blessings upon earth — calmness 
and composure of spirit, tranquillity, cheer- 
fulness, peace and comfort of mind. These 
are the peculiar portion and recompense of 
the meek. Unassuming, gentle, and humble 
in their deportment, they give no offence, 
they create no enemies, they provoke no 
hostilities, and thus escape all that large 
proportion of human misery which arises 
from dissensions and disputes; yet they are 
excluded from no rational pleasure, no legi- 
timate delight; and as they are more ex- 
empt from anxiety and pain than other 
men, their sum total of happiness is greater, 

M 



162 MATT. CHAP. V. L. XXX. 

and they may, in the best sense of the 
word, be said to inherit the earth. 

I proceed to notice such other passages 
of this admirable discourse as appear to me 
to deserve peculiar attention and conside- 
ration. 

The first of these is that which begins 
with the twenty-first verse — "Ye have heard 
that it was said by them of old time, thou 
shalt not kill; and whosoever shall kill, shall 
be in danger of the judgment: but I say 
unto you, that whosoever is angry with his 
brother without a cause shall be in danger 
of the judgment ; and whosoever shall say 
to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of 
the council ; but whosoever shall say, thou 
fool, shall be in danger of hell fire." And 
again, in the same manner at the twenty- 
seventh verse : " Ye have heard that it was 
said by them of old time, thou shalt not 
commit adultery: but I say unto you, that 
whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after 
her, hath committed adultery with her al- 
ready in his heart." 

Our Saviour's morality does not content 
itself with merely controlling our outward 



MATT. CHAP. V. 163 

actions, but it goes much deeper; it im- 
poses its restraints, it places its guard ex- 
actly where it ought to do ; on our thoughts 
and on our hearts. Former moralists con- 
tented themselves with saying, thou shalt 
not kill. But I (says our Lord) go much 
further; I say, thou shalt not indulge any 
resentment against thy brother. Former mo- 
ralists have said, thou shalt not commit 
adultery: but I say, let not thine heart or 
thine eye commit adultery; for here it is 
that the sin begins; and here it must be 
crushed in its birth. 

This is wisdom, this is morality in its 
most perfect form. Our Lord, like a wise 
physician, goes at once to the bottom of the 
evil, and proceeds to say, in terms highly 
figurative and alarming, but not too strong 
for the occasion : " If thy right eye offend 
thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee; for 
it is profitable for thee that one of thy mem- 
bers should perish, and not that thy whole 
body should be cast into hell. And if thy 
right hand offend thee, cut it off and cast it 
from thee; for it is profitable for thee that 
one of thy members should perish, and not 

m2 



164 MATT. CHAP. V. L. XXX. 

that thy whole body should be cast into 
hell." 

Every one must immediately see that the 
eye to be plucked out is the eye of concu- 
piscence, and the hand to be cut off is the 
hand of violence and vengeance; that is, 
these passions are to be checked and sub- 
dued, let the conflict cost us what it may. 

The passage to which I shall next advert 
is the following: " Ye have heard it has 
been said, an eye for an eye, and a tooth 
for a tooth: but / say unto you, that ye 
resist not evil; but whosoever shall smite 
thee on the right cheek, turn to him the 
other also: and if any man will sue thee at 
the law, and take away thy coat, let him 
have thy cloak also : and whosoever shall 
compel thee to go a mile, go with him 
twain. " 

No one can imagine that this injunction 
and those of the same kind that follow, are 
to be understood strictly and literally; that 
we are to submit, without the least oppo- 
sition, to every injury and every insult that 
is offered to us, and are absolutely pre- 
cluded from every degree of self preserva- 



MATT. CHAP. V. 1 6.5 

tion and self defence. This could not pos- 
sibly answer any one rational purpose, nor 
conduce in the least to the peace and hap- 
piness of mankind, which w r ere certainly 
the objects our Saviour had in view: but 
the figurative expressions are intended only 
to convey a general precept, and to describe 
that peculiar temper and disposition which 
the Gospel requires : that patience, gentle- 
ness, mildness, moderation, and forbearance 
under injuries and affronts, which is best 
calculated to preserve the peace of our own 
minds, as well as that of the world at large, 
which tends to soften resentment and turn 
away wrath, and without which, on one 
side or the other, provocations must be end- 
less, and enmities eternal. 

All therefore that is here required of us 
is plainly and simply this; that we should 
not suffer our resentment of injuries to carry 
us beyond the bounds of justice, equity, and 
Christian charity, and always show a dis- 
position to conciliate and forgive. 

The chapter concludes with another re- 
markable precept, which may strictly be 
called a new commandment; for in no moral 
code is it to be found, till our Lord gave it 
a place in his. 



166 MATT. CHAP. V. L. XXX. 

The precept is this : " Ye have heard it 
has been said, thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bour, and hate thine enemy. But I say 
unto you, love your enemies, bless them 
that curse you, do good to them that hate 
you, and pray for them that despitefully 
use you and persecute you ; that ye may be 
the children of your Father which is in 
heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on 
the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain 
on the just and on the unjust." 

So noble, so sublime, and so benevolent a 
precept, was never before given to man ; 
and it is one strong proof, among many 
others, of the originality of our Saviour's 
character and religion. 

It has been objected to this command, of 
loving our enemies, that it is extravagant and 
impracticable ; that it is impossible for any 
man to bring himself to entertain any real 
love for his enemies. 

This objection evidently goes upon the 
supposition that we are to love our enemies 
in the same manner and degree, and with the 
same cordiality and ardour of affection, that 
we do our relations and friends. And if 
this were required, it might indeed be con- 
sidered as a harsh injunction. But our Lord 



MATT. CHAP. V. 167 

was not so severe a taskmaster as to expect 
this at our hands. There are different de- 
grees of love, as well as of every other 
human affection ; and these degrees are to 
be duly proportioned to the different objects 
of our regard. There is one degree due to 
our relations, another to our benefactors, 
another to our friends, another to strangers, 
another to our enemies. 

Our Lord's precept exacts nothing but 
what is both reasonable and practicable. It 
explains what is meant by loving our ene- 
mies in the words that immediately follow : 
" Bless them that curse you, do good to 
them that hate you, and pray for them that 
despitefully use you and persecute you :" 
that is; do not retaliate upon your enemy; 
do not return his execrations, his injuries, 
and his persecutions with similar treatment ; 
do not turn upon him his own weapons, but 
endeavour to subdue him with weapons of 
a celestial temper, with kindness and com- 
passion. This is of all others the most 
effectual way of vanquishing an enraged 
enemy. The interpretation here given is 
amply confirmed by St. Paul in his epistle 
to the Romans, which is an admirable com- 



168 MATT. CHAP. V. L. XXX. 

ment on this passage: " Dearly beloved," 
says he, " avenge not yourselves, but rather 
give place unto wrath; for vengeance is 
mine; I will repay," saith the Lord. 

" Therefore, if thy enemy hunger, feed 
him ; if he thirst, give him drink. Be not 
overcome of evil, but overcome evil with 
good/' 

This then is the love that we are to show 
our enemies; not that ardour of affection 
which we feel towards our friends, but that 
kind of love which is called Christian charity, 
and which we ought to exercise towards 
every human being, especially in distress. 
If even our enemy hunger, we are to feed 
him; if he thirst, we are to give him drink; 
and thus shall obtain the noblest of all tri- 
umphs, " we shall overcome evil with good." 
The world, if they please, may call this 
meanness of spirit; but it is in fact the truest 
magnanimity and elevation of soul. It is 
far more glorious and more difficult to sub- 
due our own resentments, and to act with 
generosity and kindness to our adversary, 
than to make him feel the severest effects 
of our vengeance. It is this noblest act oi 
self-government, this conquest over oui 



MATT. CHAP. V. 169 

strongest passions, which our Saviour here 
requires. It is what constitutes the highest 
perfection of our nature; and it is this per- 
fection which is meant in the concluding 
verse of this chapter : " Be ye therefore 
perfect, as your Father which is in heaven 
is perfect ;" that is, in your conduct towards 
your enemies, approach as near as you are 
able to that perfection of mercy which your 
heavenly Father manifests towards his ene- 
mies, towards the evil and the unjust, on 
whom he maketh his sun to rise as well as 
on the righteous and the just. This sense 
of the word perfect is established beyond con- 
troversy by the parallel passage in St. Luke; 
where, instead of the terms made use of by 
St. Matthew 7 , " Be ye therefore perfect, as 
your Father which is in heaven is perfect, ,, 
the evangelist expressly says, " Be ye there- 
fore merciful, as your Father also is mer- 
ciful." 

This then is the perfection which you are 
to exert your utmost efforts to attain ; and 
if you succeed in your attempt, your reward 
shall be great indeed; you shall, as our 
Lord assures you, be the children of the 
Most High. 



170 



LECTURE XXXI. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. VI. AND VII. 

In these two chapters our Lord continues 
and concludes his admirable discourse from 
the Mount. 

The first thing to be noticed here is a 
strong and repeated caution to avoid all 
show and ostentation in the performance of 
our religious duties. 

The three instances specified are the acts 
of giving alms, of praying, and of fasting. 

The direction with regard to the first is, 
" Take heed that you do not your alms 
before men, to be seen of them, otherwise 
ye have no reward of your Father which is 
in heaven. Therefore, when thou doest thy 
alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, 
as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and 
in the streets, that they may have glory of 
men ; verily I say unto you, they have their 
reward. But when thou doest alms, let not 
thy left hand know what thy right hand 



!\ 



MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. J71 

doeth, that thine alms may be in secret; 
and thy Father, which seeth in secret, him- 
self shall reward thee openly." 

In the same manner with regard to prayer, 
the rule is, " When thou prayest thou shalt 
not be as the hypocrites are, for they love 
to pray standing in the synagogues and in 
the corners of the streets, that they may be 
seen of men ; verily I say unto you, they 
have their reward. But thou, when thou 
hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father 
which is in secret; and thy Father, which 
seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly. " 

Lastly, a similar precaution applies also 
to the act of fasting: " When ye fast, be 
not as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance; 
for they disfigure their faces that they may 
ippear unto men to fast; verily I say unto 
ou, they have their reward. But thou, 
when thou fastest, anoint thy head, and 
wash thy face, that thou appear not unto 
men to fast, but unto thy Father which is 
in secret; and thy Father, which seeth in 
secret, shall reward thee openly." 

In all these passages the point to be 
noticed is a strong and marked disapproba- 
tion of every thing that looks like ostenta- 






172 MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. L. XXXI. 

tion, parade, vainglory, insincerity, or hypo- 
crisy, in the discharge of our Christian du- 
ties. They show in the clearest light the 
spirit and temper of the Christian religion, 
which is modest, silent, retired, quiet, unob- 
trusive, shunning the observation and the 
applause of men, and looking only to the 
approbation of Him who seeth every thought 
of our hearts, and everv secret motive of 
our actions. 

They establish this as the grand principle 
of action for every disciple of Christ, that in 
every part of his moral and religious con- 
duct he is to have no other object in view 
but the favour of God. 

Having made this general observation 
upon the whole, 1 shall now proceed to re- 
mark on the particular instances adduced, in 
order to establish the leading principle. 

And first, we are directed to give our 
alms so privately that " our left hand shall 
not know what our right hand doeth." This 
evidently implies the utmost secrecy in the 
distribution of our charitv ; and this is un- 
doubtedly the rule we are in general to 
observe. But it is by no means to be in- 
ferred from hence that we are never, on 



MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. 173 

any occasion, to give our alms in public. 
In contributing, for instance, to any public 
charity, or to the relief of some great calami- 
ty, private or public, we cannot well conceal 
our beneficence, or if we could, we ought 
not. Our example may induce many others 
to exert a similar generosity : in these then, 
and such like cases, we are required to 
make our " light so shine before men, that 
they may see our good works, and glorify 
our Father which is in heaven." As far, 
therefore, as the reason of this command 
goes, it is not only allowable, but our duty, 
to let our generous deeds be sometimes known 
to the world. But then we ought to take 
especial care, at the same time, that we be- 
stow a much larger proportion of our alms 
in secrecv and in silence ; that we suffer no 
one to witness our beneficence but Him who 
must see every thing we do, and that we 
have no other object whatever in view but 
his approbation and his immortal rewards. 

The next instance adduced to confirm 
the general principle of seeking the approba- 
tion not of men, but of God, is that of 
prayer. 

The passage on this subject which we 



174 MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. L. XXXI. 

have already quoted has been made use of 
by some writers as an argument against all 
public prayer, which they say is here plainly 
prohibited. But for this there is not the 
smallest foundation. 

It is of private prayer only that our Lord 
is here speaking; and besides, we find in 
Scripture that public worship is enjoined as 
a duty of the highest importance. God de- 
clares by the prophet Isaiah, " that his house 
shall be called a house of prayer for all 
people." He taught his disciples too a 
form of prayer, which, though very proper 
to be used by any single person in private, 
yet is throughout expressed in the plural 
number, and adapted to the use of several 
persons praying at the same time. 

It is therefore incontestably clear that 
our Saviour could not possibly mean to for- 
bid that public worship which he himself 
practised and commanded. His intentions 
could only be to confine our private prayers 
to private places, in which we are to keep 
up a secret intercourse with our Maker, 
withdrawn from the eye of the world, and 
unobserved by any other than that Almighty 
Being to whom our petitions are addressed. 



MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. 175 

The last instance produced by our Saviour 
is that of fasting. " When ye fast, be not 
as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance; for 
they disfigure their faces that they may 
appear unto men to fast; verily I say unto 
you, they have their reward. But thou, 
when thou fastest, anoint thv head and 
wash thy face, that thou appear not unto 
men to fast, but unto thy Father which is 
in secret ; and thy Father, which seeth in 
secret, shall reward thee openly ." . 

There is very little necessity to dwell on 
this precept here, for there are scarce any in 
these times and in this country who seem 
disposed to make a show of fasting, or to be 
ambitious of acquiring a reputation for that 
kind of religious discipline ; on the contrary, 
it is by great numbers entirely laid aside, 
and too frequently treated with derision 
and contempt. Yet from this very passage 
we may learn that it ought to be considered 
in a much more serious light; for although 
our Saviour did not command his disciples 
to fast whilst he was with them, yet he him*- 
self fasted for forty days. He here plainly 
supposes that his disciples did sometimes 
fast ; and gives them directions how to per- 



176 MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. L. XXXI. 

form that duty in a manner acceptable to 
God. And it appears also, that if they did 
so perform it, if they fasted without any 
ostentation or parade, with a design not to 
catch the applause of men, but to approve 
themselves to God, he assured them they 
should have their reward. 

The next thing which peculiarly demands 
our attention in this chapter is the declara- 
tion contained in the twenty-fourth verse, 
which presents to us another fundamental 
principle of the Christian religion ; namely, 
the necessity of giving the first place in our 
hearts and our affections to God and religion, 
and pursuing other things only in subordi- 
nation to those great objects. " No man," 
says our Lord, " can serve two masters, for 
either he will hate the one and love the 
other, or else he will hold to the one and 
despise the other. Ye cannot serve God 
and Mammon." The word mammon is 
generally interpreted to mean riches only; 
but the original rather directs us to take it 
in a more general sense, as comprehending 
every thing that is capable of being an 
object of trust or a ground of confidence to 
men of worldly minds, such as wealth, 



MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. 177 

power, honour, fame, business, sensual plea- 
sures, gay amusements, and all the other 
various pursuits of the present scene. It is 
these that constitute what we usually ex- 
press by the word world, when opposed to 
religion. Here then are the two masters 
who claim dominion over us, God and the 
world ; and one of these we must serve ; 
both we cannot, because their dispositions 
and their commands are in general diametri- 
cally opposite to each other. The world 
invites us to indulge all our appetites with- 
out control, and to entangle ourselves in 
the cares and distractions of business, to 
engage with eagerness in endless contests 
for superiority in power, wealth, and honour, 
or to give up ourselves, body and soul, to 
gaiety, amusement, pleasure, and every kind 
of luxurious indulgence. These are the 
services which one master requires. But 
there is another master, whose injunctions 
are of a very different nature. That master 
is God; and his commands are to give him 
our hearts, to love him with all our heart 
and soul, and mind, and strength; to be 
temperate in all things ; to make our mode- 
ration known unto all men ; to fix our 

N 



178 MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. L. XXXI. 

affections on things above ; to have our 
conversation in heaven; to cast all our care 
upon him; and to take up our cross and 
follow Christ. 

Judge now whether it be possible to serve 
these two masters at one and the same time, 
and to obey the commands of each ; com- 
mands so perfectly contradictory to each 
other. 

Our Maker expects to reign absolute in 
our hearts; he will not be served by halves, 
he will not accept of a divided empire, he 
will not suffer us to halt between two opini- 
ons. We must take our choice, and adhere 
to one side or the other. " If the Lord be 
God, follow him ; but if Baal, then follow 
him:" 

The God whom we serve is not a hard 
master, nor does his religion contain any too 
severe restrictions. Christianity forbids no 
necessary occupations, no reasonable indul- 
gences, no innocent relaxations. It allows 
us to use the world, provided we not abuse 
it. All it requires is, that our liberty de- 
generate not into licentiousness, our amuse- 
ments into dissipation, our industry into in- 
cessant toil, our carefulness into extreme 



MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. 179 

anxiety and endless solicitude. So far from 
forbidding us to engage in business, it ex- 
pressly commands us not to be slothful in it, 
and to labour with our hands for the things 
that be needful ; it enjoins every one to 
abide in the calling wherein he was called, 
and perform all the duties of it. When it 
requires us " to be temperate in all things," 
it plainly tells us that we may use all things 
temperately ; when it directs us " to make 
our moderation known unto all men," this 
evidently implies that within the bounds of 
moderation we may enjoy all the reasonable 
conveniences and comforts of the present 
life. 

When Christ says, " Ye cannot serve God 
and Mammon ; therefore take no thought 
for your life what ye shall eat and what ye 
shall drink, nor yet for your body what ye 
shall put on;" this is most clearly explained 
a few verses after, in these words, "Seek ye 
first the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
ness, and all these things shall be added 
unto you." The meaning of the precept is 
evidently this ; not that we are absolutely to 
take no thought for our life, and the means 
of supporting it, but that our thoughts are 

n 2 



180 MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. L. XXXI. 

not to be wholly or principally occupied with 
these things. We are not to indulge an 
immoderate and unceasing anxiety and so- 
licitude about them. 

In the same manner with respect to plea- 
sures, we are not forbid to have any love for 
them ; we are only commanded not to be 
lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God. 

The ruling passion of the Christian must 
be the love of his Maker and Redeemer. 
This it is which must principally occupy his 
thoughts, his time, his attention, his heart. 
If there be any thing else which has gained 
the ascendancy over our souls, on which 
our desires, our wishes, our hopes, our fears, 
are chiefly fixed, God is then dispossessed of 
his rightful dominion over us; we serve 
another master, and we shall think but 
little of our Maker, or any thing belonging 
to him. 

His empire over our hearts must, in short, 
at all events be maintained. When this 
point is once secured, every inferior gratifi- 
cation that is consistent with his sovereignty; 
his glory, and his commands, is perfectly 
allowable; every thing that is hostile to 
them must at once be renounced. 



MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. 181 

This is a plain rule, and a very important 
one. It is the principle which our blessed 
Lord meant here to establish, and it must 
be the governing principle of our lives. 

Next to this in importance is another 
command, which you will find in the twelfth 
verse of the seventh chapter; " All things 
whatsoever ye would that men should do to 
you, do ye even so to them ; for this is the 
law and the prophets/' As the former pre- 
cepts which we have been considering relate 
to God, this relates to man ; it is the grand 
rule by which we must in all cases regulate 
our conduct towards our neighbour, and it 
is a rule, plain, simple, concise, intelligible, 
comprehensive, and every way worthy of 
its divine Author. 

As it is my purpose to touch only on the 
most important and most generally useful 
parts of our Saviour's discourse, I shall pass 
over what remains of it, and hasten to the 
conclusion, which is expressed by the sacred 
historian in these words: " And it came to 
pass, that when Jesus had finished these 
sayings, the people were astonished at his 
doctrine ; for he taught them as one having 
authority, and not as the Scribes." He drew 



182 MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. L. XXXI. 

their attention to the greatest and the no- 
blest objects ; the existence of One Supreme 
Almighty Being, the Creator, Preserver, 
and Governor of the universe; th,e first 
formation of man; his fall from original 
innocence; the consequent corruption and 
depravity of his nature; the remedy pro- 
vided for him by the goodness of our Maker 
and the death of our Redeemer; the nature 
of that divine religion which he himself 
came to reveal to mankind ; the purity of 
heart and sanctity of life which he required; 
the communications of God's Holy Spirit to 
assist our own feeble endeavours here, and 
a crown of immortal glory to recompense 
us hereafter. 

The morality he taught was the purest, 
the soundest, the sublimest, the most per- 
fect that had ever before entered into the 
imagination, or proceeded from the lips of 
man : and he added to the whole the weight, 
the irresistible weight, of his own example. 
He, and he only, of all the sons of men, 
acted up in every the minutest instance to 
what he taught; and his life exhibited a 
perfect portrait of his religion. But what 
completed the whole was, that he taught, 



MATT. CH. VI. AND VII. 183 

as the evangelist expresses it, with authority, 
with the authority of a divine teacher. He 
spoke in the name of God : he called him- 
self the Son of God. He enforced every 
thing he taught by the most solemn and 
awful sanctions, by the promise of eternal 
felicity to those who obeyed him, and a de- 
nunciation of the most tremendous punish- 
ment to those who rejected him. 

These were the circumstances which gave 
our blessed Lord the authority with which 
he spake. No wonder then that the people 
" were astonished at his doctrines/' and that 
they all declared " he spake as never man 
spake." 



LECTURE XXXII. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. XIII. 

I shall now lay before you such reflections 
as the parable of the Sower has suggested 
to my mind. 

It is evident that there are four different 
classes of men here described, which com- 
prehend all the different religious or irre- 



184 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXII. 

ligious characters that are to be met with in 
the world. The first consists of those " that 
hear the word of the kingdom (as our Lord 
expresses it) and understand it not; then 
cometh the wicked one, and catcheth awav 
that which was sown in their hearts. These 
are they (says he) which received seed by 
the way side." By these are meant those 
persons whose minds, like the beaten high 
road, are hard and impenetrable, and in- 
accessible to conviction. 

Besides these, there is another description 
of men on whom the good seed makes little 
or no impression; these are the thoughtless, 
the inattentive, the inconsiderate, the trifling, 
the gay, who think of nothing beyond the 
present scene, and who do not consider 
themselves as in the smallest degree in 
terested in any thing else. 

Being born of Christian parents, and in- 
structed perhaps in the first rudiments of 
Christianity, they call themselves Christians, 
they attend divine service, they repeat their 
prayers, they listen to the discourses of the 
preacher, but here their religion ends; it 
never goes beyond the surface, it never 
penetrates into their hearts, it lies on the hard 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 185 

beaten highway. The instant they leave the 
church every idea of religion vanishes out 
of their thoughts ; they never reflect for one 
moment on what tlfey have heard ; they 
never consider the infinite importance of 
what is to happen after death ; the awful 
prospects of eternity never present them- 
selves to their minds, neither excite their 
hopes nor alarm their fears. 

These two characters, the hardened un- 
believer, and the mere nominal Christian, 
constitute the first class described by our 
Saviour in the parable of the Sower. These 
are they which receive the seed by the way 
side, where it lies neglected upon the surface 
till " the fowls of the air devour it, or the 
wicked one catcheth it out of their hearts; ,, 
and there is an end at once of all their hopes 
of salvation, perhaps for ever. 

Secondly. There is another sort of soil 
mentioned in the parable, which gives the 
seed at first a more favourable reception. 
When it falls on stony ground, it finds no 
great difficulty in gaining admission into a 
little loose earth scattered upon a rock; it 
springs up with amazing rapidity; but no 
sooner " does the sun rise upon it with its 



186 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXII. 

scorching heat, than it withers away for want 
of depth of earth, root, and moisture. ,, 

What a lively representation is this of 
weak and unstable Christians ! they receive 
Christianity at first with gladness ; they are 
extremely ready to be made eternally happy, 
and suppose they have nothing else to do 
but to repeat their creed, and take posses- 
sion of heaven. But when they find that 
there are certain conditions to be performed 
on their parts also ; that they must give up 
their favourite interests, and restrain their 
strongest passions ; must sometimes even 
pluck out a right eye, or tear off a right 
arm; that they must take up their cross 
and follow a crucified Saviour through many 
difficulties, distresses, and persecutions, their 
ardour and alacrity are instantly extin- 
guished. They want strength of mind, 
soundness of principle, and sincerity of faith 
to support them. No wonder then that they 
fall away and depart from their allegiance 
to their divine Master and Redeemer. This 
is the second sort of hearers described in 
the parable, " that receive the word at first 
with joy ; but having no root in themselves, 
when tribulation and persecution arise be- 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 187 

cause of the word, by and by they are 
offended." 

There is a third portion of the seed, that 
falls among thorns. This wants neither root 
nor depth of earth. It grows up ; but the 
misfortune is, that the thorns grow up with 
it. The fault of the soil is not that of bear- 
ing nothing, but of bearing too much ; of 
bearing what it ought not, of exhausting its 
strength and nutrition on vile and worthless 
productions, which choke the good seed, and 
prevent itfromcomingto perfection. "These 
are they (says our Saviour, in the parallel 
place of St. Luke) which, when they have 
heard, go forth, and are choked with cares, 
and riches, and pleasures of this life, and 
bring no fruit to perfection. " In their youth, 
perhaps, they receive religious instruction, 
they imbibe right principles, and listen to 
good advice ; but no sooner do they go 
forth, no sooner do they leave those persons 
and those places from whom they receive 
them, than they take the road either of 
business or of pleasure, pursue their inte- 
rests, their amusements, or their guilty in- 
dulgences with unbounded eagerness, and 
have neither time nor inclination to culti- 



188 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIT. 

vate the seeds of religion that have been 
sown in their hearts, and to eradicate the 
weeds that have been mingled with them. 
The consequence is, the weeds prevail, and 
the seeds are choked and lost. 

But how then, it is said, are we to con- 
duct ourselves? If Providence has blessed 
us with riches, with honour, with power, 
with reputation, are we to reject these gifts 
of our heavenly Father, or ought we not 
rather to accept them with thankfulness, 
and enjoy with gratitude the advantages 
and the comforts which his bounty has be- 
stowed upon us? Most assuredly we ought. 
But then they are to be enjoyed also with 
innocence, with temperance, and with mo- 
deration. They must not be allowed to 
usurp the first place in our hearts. They 
must not.be permitted to supplant God in 
our affection, or to dispute that preeminence 
and priority which he claims over every 
propensity of our nature. This, and this 
only, can prevent the good seed from being 
choked with the cares, the riches, and the 
pleasures of the present life. 

We now come, in the last place, to the 
seed which fell on good ground, which our 



MATT. CHAP. XIII, 189 

Lord tells us, in St. Luke, denotes those 
that in an honest and good heart, having 
heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit 
with patience, some a hundred fold, some 
sixty, some thirty. 

We here see that the first and principal 
qualification for hearing the word of God, 
for keeping it, for rendering it capable of 
bringing forth fruit, is an honest and a good 
heart; that is, a heart free from all those 
evil dispositions and corrupt passions which 
blind the eyes, distort the understanding, 
and obstruct the admission of divine truth; 
a heart perfectly clear from prejudice, from 
pride, from vanity, from self-sufficiency, 
and self-conceit; a heart sincerely disposed 
and earnestly desirous to find out the truth, 
and firmly resolved to embrace it when 
found ; ready to acknowledge its own igno- 
rance, weakness and corruption, and " to 
receive with meekness the ingrafted word, 
which is able to save the souL" 

This is that innocence and simplicity and 
singleness of mind which we find so fre- 
quently recommended and so highly ap- 
plauded by our blessed Lord, and which is 
so beautifully and feelingly described when 



190 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXII. 

young children were brought to him that 
he should touch them, and were checked 
by his disciples : " Suffer the little children to 
come unto me," says he, " and forbid them 
not, for of such is the kingdom of God;" 
and then he adds, " Whosoever shall not 
receive the kingdom of God as a little child, 
he shall not enter therein/' Here, in a few 
words, and by a most significant and affect- 
ing emblem, is expressed that temper and 
disposition of mind which is the most essen- 
tial qualification for the kingdom of heaven. 
Unless we come to the Gospel with that 
meekness, gentleness, docility, and guile- 
less simplicity, which constitute the charac- 
ter of a child, we cannot enter into the 
kingdom of heaven. For, " God resisteth 
the proud, but giveth grace to the humble : 
them that are meek shall he guide in judg- 
ment; and such as are gentle, them shall 
he learn his way." 

If we have not from constitution that 
honest and good heart which is necessary 
for receiving the good seed, and bringeth 
forth fruit with patience, we may by de- 
grees, and by the blessing of God, gradually 
acquire it. If the soil is not originally good, 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 191 

it may be made so by labour and cultiva- 
tion ; but, above all, by imploring our hea- 
venly Father to shower down upon it the 
plentiful effusions of his grace, which he has 
promised to all that devoutly and fervently 
and constantly pray for it. This dew from 
heaven, " shed abroad in our hearts," will 
refresh and invigorate and purify our souls; 
will correct the very worst disposition; will 
soften and subdue the hardest and most 
ungrateful soil ; will make it clean and pure 
and moist, fit for the reception of the good 
seed ; and notwithstanding its original po- 
verty and barrenness, will enrich it with 
strength and vigour sufficient to bring forth 
fruit to perfection. 



LECTURE XXXIIT. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. XIII. CONTINUED. 

The parable of the Tares will be the subject 
of our present consideration. It is as fol- 
lows : " The kingdom of heaven is likened 
unto a man which sowed good seed in his 
field ; but while men slept, his enemy came 



192 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

and sowed tares among the wheat, and 
went his way. But when the blade was 
sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then 
appeared the tares also. So the servants of 
the householder came and said unto him, 
Sir, didst thou not sow good seed in thy 
field; from whence then hath it tares? He 
said unto them, An enemy hath done this. 
The servants said unto him, Wilt thou then 
that we go and gather them up? But he 
said, Nay; lest whilst ye gather up the 
tares ye root up also the wheat with them. 
Let both grow together unto the harvest; 
and in the time of harvest I will say to the 
reapers, Gather ye together first the tares, 
and bind them up in bundles to burn them; 
but gather the wheat into my bam. ,, 

After our Lord had delivered this para- 
ble, and one or two more very short ones, 
we are told that he sent the multitude 
away, and went into the house; and his 
disciples came unto him, saying, " Declare 
unto us the parable of the tares of the field. 
He answered and said unto them, He that 
sowed the good seed is the Son of man : 
the field is the world ; the good seed are 
the children of the kingdom ; but the tares 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 193 

are the children of the wicked one; the 
enemy that sowed them is the devil; the 
harvest is the end of the world ; and the 
reapers are the angels. As therefore the 
tares are gathered and burned in the fire, 
so shall it be in the end of this world. The 
Son of man shall send forth his angels, and 
they shall gather out of his kingdom all 
things that offend, and them which do ini- 
quity, and shall cast them into a furnace of 
fire; there shall be weeping and gnashing 
of teeth. Then shall the righteous shine 
forth as the sun in the kingdom of their 
Father. Who hath ears to hear let him 
hear." 

This parable well deserves our most seri- 
ous consideration, as it gives an answer to 
two questions of great curiosity and import- 
ance. The first of these questions is, How- 
came moral evil into the world ? 

The next is, Why is it suffered to remain 
a single moment; and why is not every 
wicked man immediately punished as he 
deserves ? 

We are told in the very beginning of the 
Bible, that he who first brought sin or moral 
evil into the world was that great adversary 

o 



194 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

of the human race, the devil, who first 
tempted the woman, and she the man, to act 
in direct contradiction to the commands of 
their Maker. 

This act of disobedience destroyed at 
once that innocence and purity and integ- 
rity of mind with which they came out of 
the hands of their Creator; gave an imme- 
diate and dreadful shock to their whole 
moral frame, and introduced into it all those 
corrupt propensities and disordered passions 
which were entailed upon their descendants; 
of which we now all feel the bitter fruits, 
and have, I fear, by our own personal and 
voluntary transgressions increased. 

This is the true origin of moral evil; and 
it is expressly confirmed by our Saviour in 
the parable before us ; in which, when the 
servants of the householder express their 
surprise at finding tares among the wheat, 
and ask whence they came, his answer is, 
An enemy hath done this; and that enemy, 
our Lord informs us, is the devil. 

But still, as I have already observed, there 
remains another very important question to 
be answered. Why is the wickedness of 
man, from whatever source it springs, suf- 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 195 

fered to pass unobserved and unpunished 
by the Judge of all the earth? Why is not 
the bold offender stopped short in his career 
of vice and iniquity? Why is he permitted 
to go on triumphantly, without any obstacle 
to his wishes, to insult, oppress, and harass 
the virtuous and the good, without the least 
check or control, and, as it were, to brave 
the vengeance of the Almighty, and set at 
nought the great Governor of the world? 
Why, in short, in the language of the pa- 
rable, are the tares allowed to grow up 
unmolested with the wheat, to choke its 
vigour and impede its growth ? Why are 
they not plucked up instantly with an in- 
dignant hand, and thrown to the dunghill, 
or committed to the flames ? 

The reflections which these mysterious 
proceedings are apt to excite even in the 
best and humblest of men, are most inti- 
mately expressed by the royal Psalmist in 
the seventy-third Psalm ; where you see all 
the different turns and workings of his mind 
laid open without disguise, and all the vari- 
ous ideas and sentiments that successively 
took possession of his soul, in the progress of 
his inquiry, described in the most natural 

o2 



196 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

and affecting manner: "Truly," says he, 
with that piety which constantly inspires 
him, " God is loving to Israel; even unto 
such as are of a clean heart : nevertheless 
my feet were almost gone, my treadings 
had well nigh slipped : and why ? I was 
grieved at the wicked ; I did also see the 
ungodly in such prosperity; for they are in 
no peril of death, but are lusty and strong: 
they come in no misfortune like other folk; 
neither are they plagued like other men. 
And this is the cause, that they are so 
holden with pride and overwhelmed with 
cruelty: their eyes swell with fatness, and 
they do even what they lust : they corrupt 
others, and speak of wicked blasphemy ; 
their talking is against the Most High. 
Tush, say they, how shall God perceive 
it ? is there knowledge in the Most High I 
Lo, these are the ungodly : these prosper 
in the world ; and these have riches in pos- 
session. And I said, then have I cleansed 
my heart in vain, and washed my hands in 
innocency." 

Sentiments such as these, are, I believe, 
what many good men have found occasion- 
ally rising in their minds, on observing the 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 197 

prosperity of the worthless part of mankind. 
These complaints, however, soon pass away 
with men of pious dispositions, and end in 
meek submission to the will of Heaven. 
But not so with the wicked and profane. 
By them the forbearance of Heaven towards 
sinners is sometimes perverted to the very 
worst purposes, and made use of as an argu- 
ment to encourage and confirm them in the 
career of vice. 

It was to obviate these fatal consequences, 
as well as to give support and consolation 
to the good, that our Lord delivered this 
parable of the tares and the wheat. 

But before I begin to state and explain 
the reasons of that forbearance and lenity 
towards sinners, I must take notice that, 
although punishment does not always over- 
take the wicked in this life, yet it falls upon 
them more frequently and heavily than we 
are aware of. They are often punished 
when we do not observe it; but they are 
also sometimes punished in the most public 
and conspicuous manner. 

The very first offence committed by man 
after the creation of the world, was, as we 
know to our cost, followed by immediate 



198 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

and exemplary punishment. The next great 
criminal, Cain, was rendered a fugitive and 
a vagabond upon earth, and held up as an 
object of execration and abhorrence to man- 
kind. When the whole earth was sunk in 
wickedness, it was overwhelmed by a de- 
luge: the abominations of Sodom and Go- 
morrah were avenged by fire from heaven : 
the tyrant Pharaoh and his host were 
drowned in the Red Sea : Korah, Dathan, 
and Abiram, and their rebellious compa- 
nions, were buried alive in the bowels of 
the earth. It was for their portentous wick- 
edness and savage practices that the Ca- 
naanite nations were exterminated by the 
Israelites; and it was for their idolatries, 
their licentiousness, and their rebellions 
against God, that the Israelites themselves 
were repeatedly driven into exile, reduced 
to slavery, and at length their city, their 
temple, and their whole civil polity utterly 
destroyed, and themselves scattered and 
dispersed over every part of the known 
world, and every where treated with deri- 
sion and contempt, 

These are proofs, and tremendous proofs, 
that God is not an inattentive and uncon- 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 199 

cerned spectator of human wickedness. And 
to come to our own times, do we not con- 
tinually see that they who indulge their 
passions without control, and give an un- 
bounded loose to every corrupt propensity 
of their hearts, are sooner or later the vic- 
tims of their own intemperance and licen- 
tiousness ? Do they not madly sacrifice to 
the love of pleasure, and frequently within a 
very short space of time, their health, their 
fortune, their characters, their peace of 
mind, and that too completely and effectu- 
ally, and beyond all hopes of recovery ? 
Now what is all this but the sentence of 
God speedily executed against evil works? 
without taking into the account such flagrant 
crimes as deliver men over into the hands of 
public justice. 

But supposing the guilty to escape for a 
time all sufferings, and, in consequence of 
it, to please themselves highly with the 
prudence of their choice ; yet still punish- 
ment, though slow, may overtake them at 
last. The blindness of such men to conse- 
quences is quite astonishing. One man 
evades the penalties of human laws in a few 
instances, and therefore concludes he shall 



200 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXX IJI 

never be overtaken by them. Another 
preserves his reputation for a time, and 
thence imagines it to be perfectly secure. 
A third finds his health hold out a few 
years, and therefore has not the least sus- 
picion that what he^js always undermining 
must fall at last. There are, however, num- 
bers of worthless and profligate men who 
go on for a considerable length of time, per- 
haps even to the end of their days, in a full 
tide of worldly prosperity, blessed with every 
thing that is thought most valuable in this 
life, wealth, power, rank, health, and strength, 
and enjoying all these advantages without 
interruption and alloy, " coming in no mis- 
fortune like other folk, and not plagued or 
afflicted like other men." 

These, it must be confessed, are strong- 
symptoms of happiness, if we are to judge 
from appearances only. But does not every 
one know that happiness depends infinitely 
less upon external circumstances than on 
the internal comfort, content, and satisfac- 
tion of the mind i " The heart only (says 
the wise man most truly) knoweth its own 
bitterness, and a stranger doth not inter- 
meddle with its joy." This then is the 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 201 

standard by which you must measure hu- 
man happiness. You must not too hastily 
conclude that prosperity is felicity. In 
order to know whether these men are truly 
what they seem to be, you must follow them 
into their retirements — into their closets 
and their couches ; and if you could then 
see the interior of their hearts, you would 
probably find them objects rather of pity 
than of envy. 

External calamities, and corporeal pains, 
acute sufferings, disease, or death, there- 
fore, are not the only instruments of ven- 
geance which the Almighty has in his hand 
for the correction of sinners ; but he has 
other engines of punishment far more terri- 
ble than these ; he can plant daggers in the 
breast of the most triumphant libertine; 
and even when their worldly blessings are 
exalted, his secret dart can pierce their 
souls, and wring them with tortures sharper 
than a two-edged sword, yet invisible to 
every eye. 

However as punishment does not always 
overtake the offence either speedily or im- 
mediately, I proceed to show, that when 



202 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

this is the case, there are sufficient reasons 
for the delay. 

One of these reasons is given in the para- 
ble before us. When the servants of the 
householder represented to him that there 
was a great number of tares intermixed and 
growing up with the wheat, and asked 
whether they should not go and root them 
up; his answer was, Nay; lest while ye 
gather up the tares ye root up the wheat 
also with them. The meaning is, that, in 
the present imperfect scene of things, the 
virtuous and the wicked are so intermingled 
and so connected with each other, that it is 
frequently impossible to punish the guilty 
without involving the innocent in their suf- 
ferings. 

Is the criminal, whom you wish to see 
chastised, a perfectly unconnected, solitary, 
and isolated being? Has he no wife or 
children, no relations, no dependents, no 
persons of any description, that look up to 
him for protection, support, or assistance ? 
If he has, are you sure that all these persons 
are as worthless, and as deserving of correc- 
tion as himself? May they not, on the con- 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 203 

trary, be as eminent in virtue as he is in 
wickedness; or at least, may they not be 
exempt from many of those flagrant sins 
that call for immediate and exemplary 
punishment ? If so, would you have these 
innocent, and perhaps excellent persons, 
involved in the ruin of the great delinquent 
on whom they entirely depend ? Would 
you have the righteous Governor of the 
universe make no distinction in the inflic. 
tion of his punishments ? Should we not 
rather adopt the pathetic language of Abra- 
ham, when he is pleading with the Almighty 
for Sodom and Gomorrah ? " Wilt thou slav 
the righteous with the wicked? That be 
far from thee. Shall not the Judge of all 
the earth do right ?" You see then that 
there may be the best and most substantial 
reasons for delaying the punishment of the 
wicked, and that when we are rashly calling 
out for immediate vengeance, the Judge of 
all the earth is full of tenderness and pity, 
and sees the best reasons for respiting even 
the most notorious offenders. 

But besides this, there are other reasons 
for God's forbearance towards sinners. They 
are sometimes, as the prophet expresses it, 



204 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

the rod of his anger. He makes use of them 
as instruments to chastise each other, or to 
correct the faults of those who are much 
better than themselves. And it frequently 
happens that their punishment is only de- 
layed till they have completely finished the 
work for which they were raised up, and 
that then they are made to justify the dis- 
pensations of the Almighty by the awful 
spectacle of a conspicuous and terrifying 
fall. 

There is another very important con- 
sideration, which may frequently occasion a 
delay in punishing even grievous offenders ; 
and that is, the goodness and long-suffering 
of God, who is not willing that any should 
perish, but that all should have time for 
repentance. 6i He is unwilling, therefore, 
to break the bruised reed, or to quench the 
smoking flax." He is unwilling to destroy 
what may still possibly be restored ; he is 
unwilling to extinguish, by severity, the 
faintest sparks of latent goodness. He sees, 
in short, that if they have time for reflec- 
tion, if they have space for repentance, they 
will repent, and he graciously gives them a 
respite for that purpose. 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 205 

And shall we repine or murmur at this 
forbearance, this indulgence of God towards 
sinners ? Are not we ourselves *all of us sin- 
ners, miserable sinners : and do we think 
that God treats us with too much indul- 
gence ? How then can we refuse to others 
that mercy of which we stand so much in 
need ourselves ? 

Yet notwithstanding all the reasons for 
sometimes delaying the punishment of guilt 
in the present world, it cannot be denied 
that there are some instances of prosperous 
wickedness which cannot well be accounted 
for by any of them, and therefore we must 
have recourse to the concluding part of the 
parable, which will give us the fullest satis- 
faction on this interesting subject. To the 
question of the servants, whether they should 
gather up the tares from the midst of the 
wheat, the householder answers, "Na}r; 
lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up 
the wheat also. Let both grow together un- 
til the harvest, and in the time of harvest I 
will say to the reapers, Gather up together 
first the tares, and bind them in bundles to 
burn them ; but gather the wheat into my 
harn." The harvest, our Lord tells us in 



20(3 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

his explanation, is the end of the world, at 
which awful period the Son of man shall 
send forth his angels, and they shall " gather 
out of his kingdom all things that offend, 
and them which do iniquity, and shall cast 
them into a furnace of fire ; there shall be 
weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then shall 
the righteous shine forth as the sun in the 
kingdom of their Father. He that hath ears 
to hear, let him hear." 

Here then is the great master key to the 
whole of this mysterious dispensation of 
heaven. God, we see, has appointed a day 
when every deficiency in his administration 
shall be supplied, and every seeming dispro- 
portion and inequality shall be rectified. 

Even in this world it appears that wicked- 
ness is punished in some measure, and to a 
certain degree : and we have seen that the 
interests of virtue itself, among other con- 
siderations, require that it should not be 
instantly punished to the full extent of its 
deserts. God is perpetually showing, even 
in the present life, his different regard to 
right and wrong, by every such method as 
the constitution of the world which he has 
created admits ; and therefore no sooner 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 207 

shall that world come to an end, and all 
obstacles to an equal administration of justice 
be taken out of the way, than he shall come 
to execute righteous judgment upon earth, 
" He is not slack, as men count slackness/' 
that is, negligent and remiss ; he only waits 
for the proper season of doing all that hitherto 
remains undone. We must not think God 
to be such a one as ourselves. Eternity 
itself will make no change in his abhorrence 
of wickedness, nor will any thing either 
transport him to act before his appointed 
time, or prevail upon him to give a respite 
when that time comes. The sinners of the 
antediluvian world, abusing the long space 
of one hundred and twenty years which he 
allowed for their repentance, perished at 
the end of it without mercy. The angels 
who fell from their first estate, before this 
world was created, he has reserved for tor- 
ments, that shall not finally take place till 
it is consumed. 

How far off these judgments of the Lord 
may be, we none of us know. But with 
regard to ourselves, they are near, they are 
even at the door. The few days we have 
to pass in this transient scene will determine 



208 MATT. CHAP. XIII. L. XXXIII. 

our condition for ever, and bring us into an 
eternal state, compared with which the 
continuance of the present frame of nature, 
from its very beginning, will be as nothing. 
Then every act of the government of God 
will be seen in its true light; the imagined 
length of distance between guilt and its 
punishment will totally disappear; and of- 
fenders will lament in vain that sentence is 
executed so speedily as it is against evil 
works. 

To the religious and virtuous we say, 
" Fret not thyself because of the ungodly, 
neither be thou envious against the evil 
doers. Hold thee still in the Lord, and 
abide patiently upon him; but grieve not 
thyself at him whose way doth prosper, 
against the man that doeth after evil coun- 
sels. Wicked doers shall be rooted out; 
and they that patiently abide the Lord, 
those shall inherit the land." 

It has been proved, in the course of this 
inquiry, that in such an immense and com- 
plicated system as that of the universe, there 
are many reasons which we can discern, 
and a thousand others perhaps totally un- 
known to us, which render it necessary that 



MATT. CHAP. XIII. 209 

the virtuous should suffer a temporary de-. 
pression, and the wicked enjoy a temporary 
triumph. But let not these apparent irre- 
gularities dispirit or discourage us : for when- 
ever the purposes of Providence in these 
mysterious dispensations shall have been 
accomplished, every disorder shall be recti- 
fied, and every appearance of injustice done 
away. The time and the season for doing 
this, God has reserved in his own power; 
and we must not presume to prescribes rules 
to the wisdom of the Almighty. To men 
excruciated with pain, every moment seems 
an age ; and to men groaning under oppres- 
sion, their deliverance, if it come not in- 
stantly, may seem extremely distant. But 
let them not despair: in due season they 
shall reap, if they faint not. At the period 
marked out by infinite wisdom, and which 
it is their duty to await with patience, God 
shall cause his judgment to be heard from 
heaven, and the earth shall tremble and be 
still. He shall prove, in a manner the most 
awful and most satisfactorily, " that verily 
there is a reward for the righteous, and a 
punishment for the wicked; that doubtless 
there is a God that judgeth the earth/' 

p 



210 



LECTURE XXXIV. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. XVII. 

I request your attention to a very remark- 
able part of our Saviour's history, that which 
is called by the evangelists his Transfigura- 
tion, and which is related in the seventeenth 
chapter of St. Matthew. % 

The relation of this singular transaction is 
given us by three out of four evangelists, 
Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and alluded to 
in the writings of the fourth. They all 
agree in the main points. There is no ma- 
terial variation, and not the least contradic- 
tion between them : but, as it is very natu- 
ral, where different persons relate the same 
fact, a few particulars are taken notice of 
by some which are passed over in silence 
by others. St. Matthew's account of it s 
as follows : 

" And after six days, Jesus taketh Peter, 
James, and John his brother, and bringeth 



MATT. CHAP. XVII. 2 I I 

them up into a high mountain apart, and 
was transfigured before them ; and his face 
did shine as the sun, and his raiment was 
white as the light. And behold there ap- 
peared unto them Moses and Elias talking 
with him. Then answered Peter, and said 
unto Jesus, Lord, it is good for us to be 
here : if thou wilt, let us make three taber- 
nacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, and 
one for Elias. While he yet spake, behold, 
a bright cloud overshadowed them; and 
behold a voice out of the cloud, which said, 
This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well 
pleased : hear ye him. And when the dis- 
ciples heard it, they fell on their face, and 
were sore afraid. And Jesus came and 
touched them, and said, Arise, and be not 
afraid. And when they had lifted up their 
eyes, they saw no man, save Jesus only. 
And as they came down from the mount, 
Jesus charged them, saying, Tell the vision 
to no man until the Son of man be risen 
again from the dead. 

" And his disciples asked him, saying, 
Why then say the scribes that Elias must 
first come? And Jesus answered and said 
unto them, Elias shall truly first come, and 

p 2 



212 v MATT. CHAP. XVII. L. XXXIV. 

restore all things, But I say unto you, that 
Elias is come already, and they knew him 
not, but have done unto him whatsoever 
they listed: likewise also shall the Son of 
man suffer of them. Then the disciples 
understood that he spake to them of John 
the Baptist." 

Such is the histo^ which the evangelist 
gives us of the transfiguration. 

I conceive two principal and important 
purposes were meant to be answered by this 
illustrious scene. 

The first was to set before the eyes of the 
disciples a visible and figurative representation 
of Christ's coming in glory to judge the world, 
and to reward with everlasting felicity all his 
faithful servants. 

In order to prove this, and at the same 
time to bring to the reader's view those cir- 
cumstances which preceded, and in some 
degree gave occasion to the celestial vision, 
it will be necessary to look back to the 
chapter immediately before that in which 
the transfiguration is related. 

In the twenty-first verse of the sixteenth 
chapter we find that Jesus then, for the first 
time, thought fit to give some intimations to 



MATT. CHAP. XVII. 213 

his disciples of the strange and extraordinary 
scenes he was soon to pass through ; his suf- 
ferings, his death, and his resurrection. 

" From that time forth began Jesus to 
show to his disciples how that he must go 
to Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the 
elders, and chief priests, and scribes, and be 
killed, and be raised again the third day." 

He thus proceeded to show, not only that 
he himself must suffer persecution, but that 
all those who would at that time come after 
him, and share with him the arduous and 
dangerous task of sowing the first seeds of 
the Gospel, " must deny themselves, and 
take up their cross, and follow him." But 
then, to support them under those severe 
injunctions, he cheers them immediately 
with a brighter scene of things, and with a 
prospect of his future glory, and their future 
recompense. " The Son of man shall come 
in the glory of his Father with his angels, 
and then shall he reward every man accord- 
ing to his works." And he adds, " Verily I 
say unto you, there be some standing here 
which shall not taste of death till they see 
the Son of man coming in his kingdom." 
The evident tendency of the whole passage 



214 MATT. CHAP. XVII. L. XXXIV. 

is to prepare the minds of his disciples for 
the cruel treatment which both he and they 
were to undergo, and at the same time to 
raise their drooping spirits, by setting before 
their eyes his own exaltation, and their glo- 
rious rewards in another life. 

Within a few days after the foregoing 
conversation, he " taketh with him Peter, 
James, and John, and bringeth them up 
into a high mountain apart, and was trans- 
figured before them; and behold, there ap- 
peared Moses and Elias talking with him." 
They were not only seen by the disciples, 
but they were heard also conversing with 
Jesus. St. Luke says that " they spake of 
our Lord's decease, which he should accom- 
plish at Jerusalem. " The very mention of 
Christ's sufferings and death by such men 
as Moses and Elias, without any marks of 
surprise or dissatisfaction, was of itself suffi- 
cient to occasion a great change in the sen- 
timents of the disciples respecting those suf- 
ferings, and to soften those prejudices of 
theirs against them ; the removal of which 
seems to have been one of the more imme- 
diate objects of the transfiguration. 

From the expressions made use of by the 



MATT. CHAP. XVII. 215 

several evangelists, the change in the whole 
of our Lord's external appearance was a 
very illustrious one. They inform us that, 
u as our Saviour prayed, the fashion of his 
countenance was changed; his face did 
shine as the sun, and his raiment became 
exceeding white and glistering ; as white as 
snow, as white as the light, so as no fuller 
on earth could whiten it." Now Christ 
having assumed this splendid and glorious 
appearance at the very time when Moses 
and Elias were conversing with him on his 
sufferings, it was a visible and striking proof 
to his disciples that those sufferings were 
not, as they imagined, any real discredit and 
disgrace to him, but were perfectly con- 
sistent with the dignity of his character, and 
the highest state of glory to which he could 
be exalted. 

The transfiguration is described in nearly 
the same terms that St. John, in the Reve- 
lation, applies to the Son of man in his state 
of glory in heaven. " He was clothed," 
says he, " with a garment down to the foot: 
his head and his hair were white like wool, 
white as snow ; and his countenance was as 
the sun shineth in his strength." It is re- 



216 MATT. CHAP. XVII. L. XXXIV. 

markable that St. Luke calls his appear- 
ance, after being transfigured, his glory. 

St. John, who was likewise present at this 
appearance, gives it the same name. " We 
beheld his glory, as of the only begotten of 
the Father." And St. Peter, who was an- 
other witness to this transaction on the 
mount, refers to it by a similar expression. 
" For he received/' says that Apostle, 
" from God the Father, honour and glory, 
when there came such a voice to him from 
the excellent glory, This is my beloved 
Son, in whom I am well pleased.'' There 
can hardly therefore remain any doubt, 
but that the glory which Christ received from 
the Father on the mountain, was meant 
to be a representation of his coming in the 
glory of his Father, with his holy angels, at 
the end of the world. 

Though our Saviour's resurrection is only 
indirectly alluded to here, yet those most 
important doctrines which are founded upon 
it, a general resurrection, and a day of retri- 
bution, are expressly represented in the trans- 
figuration. 

In the sixteenth chapter of St. Matthew 
Christ tells his disciples that, when " he 



MATT. CHAP. XVII. 217 

comes in the glory of his Father, with the 
holy angels, he will reward every man ac- 
cording to his works :" from whence it 
necessarily follows that every man who is 
dead shall rise from the grave. And in con- 
firmation of both these truths, there are two 
just and righteous men, Moses and Elias, 
who had many years before departed out of 
the world, brought back to it again, and 
represented in a state of glory. That they 
actually appeared in their own proper per- 
sons there is not the least reason to doubt. 
Though the sepulchre of Moses was not 
known, yet his body was actually buried in 
a valley in the land of Moab, and there- 
fore must have seen corruption ; and as the 
whole transaction was miraculous, it was 
easy to Omnipotence to restore life and 
form to a body mouldered into dust, and 
by doing so give an exact emblem of our 
own resurrection. And Elias having been 
carried up into heaven without undergoing 
death, he was here a proper representative 
of those who should be found alive at the 
day of judgment, as Moses is of those who 
had died, and are raised to life again. And 



218 MATT. CHAP. XVII. L. XXXIV. 

his appearance a second time on earth must 
have been a convincing proof to the disciples 
of the possibility of a resurrection. 

And, what is no less important, the man- 
ner, in which both Moses and Elias appeared 
on this occasion, afforded the disciples an 
ocular demonstration of a day of retribution 
agreeably to what their divine Master had 
a few days before told them, that he would 
reward every man according to his works. 

We are informed that both Moses and 
Elias appeared also in glory. The glory of 
Christ therefore on the mountain was a sym- 
bol of his exaltation to be the judge of the 
earth ; and the glory of Moses and Elias was 
an emblem of the rewards given to the 
righteous in heaven; and one great object 
of this expressive action, as well as of that 
conversation, was to reconcile the minds 
of his disciples to the sufferings which both 
he and they were to undergo by show- 
ing that they were preparatory and subser- 
vient to his future glory and their future 
rewards. 

The other great purpose of the action on 
the mount was, I apprehend, to signify, in 



MATT. CHAT. XVII. 219 

a figurative manner, the cessation of the 
Jewish and the commencement of the 
Christian dispensation. 

It appears to have been one prevailing 
prejudice among the disciples that the whole 
Mosaical law, the ceremonial as well as the 
moral, was to continue in full force under 
the Gospel; and that the authority of Moses 
and the prophets was not, in any respect, 
to give way on the establishment of Chris- 
tianity, but to be placed on an equal footing 
with that of Christ. 

To correct this erroneous opinion, no less 
than to vanquish their prepossessions against 
the sufferings of Christ, was the scene of 
the transfiguration presented to the three 
chosen disciples, Peter, James, and John. 

Moses and Elias were very natural and 
-proper representatives of the law and the 
prophets. 

When the three disciples saw these illus- 
trious persons conversing familiarly with 
Jesus, it probably confirmed them in their 
opinion, that they were to be considered as 
of equal dignity and authority with him; and 
under this impression, Peter immediately 
addressed himself to Jesus, and said, " Lord, 



220 MATT. CHAP. XVII. L. XXXIV. 

it is good for us to be here ; and, if thou 
wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one 
for thee, and one for Moses, and one for 
Elias; meaning to say, let this be the con- 
stant place of your abode, that we may 
always continue under the united empire 
of our three illustrious lords and masters, 
whose sovereign laws and commands we 
are equally bound to obey. 

The answer to this extraordinary proposal 
was instantly given both by action and by 
words. " While he yet spake, behold a 
bright cloud overshadowed them ; and, be- 
hold, a voice out of the cloud, which said, 
This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well 
pleased : Hear ye him. 

The cloud is the well known token of 
the divine presence under the law: the gra- 
cious words which issued from it most clearly 
explained the meaning of what was passing 
before the eyes of the disciples, " This is 
my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased : 
Hear ye him." " This is my Son, not as 
Moses and all the prophets were, my ser- 
vants. Him, and him only, you are now to 
hear. He is from henceforth to be your 
lord, your legislator, and your king. The 



MATT. CHAP. XVII. 221 

evangelical law being established, the cere- 
monial law must cease, and Moses and the 
Prophets must give way to Christ." Mo- 
ses and Elias instantly disappear, and "when 
the disciples lift up their eyes, they see no 
man save Jesus only." The former objects 
of their veneration are no more. Christ 
remains alone their unrivalled and undis- 
puted sovereign. 

From the whole, then, of the precedjng 
observations, it appears, that the transfigu- 
ration of Christ was one of those emblema- 
tical actions, or figurative representations, 
of which so many instances have been 
pointed out, and distinctly explained by 
some of our best divines. 

The things represented by this significant 
transaction were: 

First, The future glory of Christ, a general 
resurrection, and a future retribution. 

Secondly, The abrogation of the Mosaical, 
and the establishment of the evangelical dis- 
pensation. 

And the immediate purpose of these repre- 
sentations was, as I before observed, to cor- 
rect two inveterate prejudices which pre- 
vailed among the disciples, and the Jewish 
converts in general. 



222 MATT. CHAP. XVII. L. XXXIV. 

Of these, one was the extreme offence 
they took at the mention of the death and 
sufferings of Christ, which they conceived 
to be utterly inconsistent with his dignity. 

The other was their persuasion that the 
ceremonial law was not done away by the 
Gospel, but that they were to exist together 
in full force, and to have an equal obedience 
paid to them by all the disciples of Christ. 

But though the removal of these preju- 
dices was, perhaps, the primary and imme- 
diate design of the transfiguration ; yet there 
are also purposes of great utility to all Chris- 
tians in general, in every age, which it pro- 
bably was intended to answer. 

In the first place, it affords one more 
additional proof of the divine mission of 
Christ, and the divine authority of his reli- 
gion. 

It is one of the few occasions on which 
God himself was pleased, as it were, per- 
sonally to interpose, and to make an open 
declaration from heaven in favour of his 
Son ; " This is my beloved Son, in whom I 
am well pleased: hear ye him." 

Now these signs from hea/ven may be 
considered as a distinct species of evidence, diffe- 
ent both from miracles and prophecies, 



MATT. CHAP. XVII. 223 

frequently and earnestly wished for by the 
Jews, but not granted to them, nor vouch- 
safed to any one, but very sparingly, and on 
great and solemn occasions. 

But besides this awful testimony to the 
divine origin of our religion in general, a 
particular attestation was given on the Mount 
to two of its principal doctrines, a general 

RESURRECTION and A DAY OF RETRIBUTION. 

The visible and illustrious representations 
of these in the glorified appearance of Christ, 
and Moses, and Elias, is appealed to by St. 
Peter, who saw it, as one convincing proof, 
among others, that "*he had not followed 
cunningly devised fables," when he made 
known " the power and coming of our Lord 
Jesus Christ." And, indeed, since these 
two doctrines, a resurrection, and a day 
of judgment, are two of the most essential 
and fundamental articles of our faith ; and 
since it was one of the chief purposes of the 
Christian revelation " to bring life and im- 
mortality to light," no wonder that God 
should graciously condescend to confirm 
these great truths to us in so many various 
ways; by words and by actions, by prophe- 
cies, by miracles, and by celestial visions. 



224 



LECTURE XXXV. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. XVIII. 

The subject of this Lecture is a part of the 
eighteenth chapter of St. Matthew. 

In the beginning of this chapter it appears 
that the disciples came to Jesus, saying, 
" Who is the greatest in the kingdom of 
heaven ?" It appears from the parallel pas- 
sage in St. Mark, that they had been dis- 
puting by the way who should be the great- 
est. Our Lord, knowing this, and finding 
that all he had said on this subject had pro- 
duced no effect upon them, determined to 
try whether a different mode of conveying 
his sentiments might not strike their minds 
more forcibly. He had recourse (as in the 
case of the transfiguration) to what may be 
called a visible kind of language. He took 
a little child, and placing him before them, 
bid them contemplate the innocence and 
simplicity, the meekness and humility, which 
marked its countenance; and then assured 



MATT. CHAP. XVIII. 225 

them, that unless they were converted, and 
became as little children; that is, unless a 
total change took place in the temper and 
disposition of their minds, unless they be- 
came *as unambitious and unaspiring, as 
meek, as humble and contented, as little 
concerned about worldly honours and dis- 
tinctions, as the child before them, they 
could not enter into the kingdom of heaven ; 
they could never be considered as true ob- 
jects of Christ's kingdom here, or be capable 
of inheriting the rewards of heaven here- 
after. 

In the eye of God, true humility is a 
most sublime virtue; and whoever shall 
humble himself as this little child, the same 
is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 

Our Lord then goes on to say, " Whoso- 
ever receiveth one such little child in mv 
name, receiveth me." That is, it is men of 
humble minds and meek dispositions whom 
I most highly prize, and whom I most 
strongly recommend to the notice, the kind- 
ness, the protection of all those who are 
friends to me and my religion : and so dear 
are persons of this description to me, that I 
make their interests my own, and I shall 

Q 



226 MATT. CHAP. XVIII. L. XXXV. 

consider every man who receives and assists 
and encourages them on my account, and 
for my sake, as receiving me. But if, in- 
stead of receiving and protecting these my 
humble disciples, any one should dare to in- 
jure them, he must expect the severest 
marks of my displeasure. " Whoso shall 
offend one of these little ones which believe 
in me, it were better for him that a mill- 
stone were hanged about his neck, and that 
he were drowned in the depth of the sea. 
Woe unto the world, because of offences; 
for it must needs be that offences come; but 
woe to that man by whom the offence 
cometh. ,, 

In order to comprehend the full meaning 
of this denunciation, it will be necessary to 
explain the peculiar meaning of the word 
offend. Now this expression in the present 
passage, as well as in many other parts of 
the New Testament, signifies to cause any 
one to fall from his faith, to renounce his be- 
lief in Christ by any means whatever ; and 
against every one that makes use either of 
violence or artifice to terrify or seduce the 
sincere and humble and unsuspicious be- 
liever in Christ from his faith and obedience 



MATT. CHAP. XVIII. 227 

to his divine Master, the severest woes, 
and the heaviest punishments are here de- 
nounced. 

This text of Scripture, therefore, I would 
most earnestly recommend to the serious 
consideration of those who either are or have 
been guilty of this most dangerous crime ; 
and I would also no less earnestly caution 
all those who have not yet been guilty of it, 
to avoid, with the utmost care, every degree 
of it, and every approach to it. I shall 
advert briefly to the several modes of * making 
our brother to offend, that is, to renounce his 
faith in Christ, which are most common and 
most successful ; and these are, persecution, 
sophistry, ridicule, immoral examples, and 
immoral publications. 

With respect to the first of these, perse- 
cution, it was, during the first ages of the 
Gospel, and for many years after the Refor- 
mation, the great rock of offence, the chief 
instrument made use of to deter men from 
embracing the faith of Christ, or to compel 
them to renounce it. 

In our own country, it must be acknow- 
ledged, we now cannot justly be charged 
with this species of guilt. Intolerance and 

q2 



228 MATT. CHAP. XVITI. L. XXXV. 

persecution are certainly not in the number 
of our national sins. But in the next mode 
of making our brother to offend, that is, by- 
grave argument and reason, by open and 
systematic attacks on the truth and divine 
authority of the Christian revelation, in this 
we have, I fear, a large load of responsibility 
upon our heads. But thanks be to God 
that he gave a sudden and effectual check to 
the progress of this mischief, and afforded a 
striking proof of the truth of that prophecy 
respecting the stability of our religion, " that 
the gates of hell shall never prevail against 
it." 

The next great engine of offence, by 
which multitudes have been led to renounce 
their faith, is ridicule; by no one has this 
weapon been employed with more force 
and success than by the great patriarch of 
infidelity, Voltaire. His writings have un- 
questionably produced more infidels among 
the higher classes, and spread more general 
corruption over the world, than all the 
voluminous productions of all the other phi- 
losophists of Europe put together. 

There is still another way of making our 
brother to offend, or in other words, of shaking 



MATT. CHAP. XVIII. 229 

his faith in the Gospel ; and that is, by ex- 
hibiting to mankind in our life and conver- 
sation, a profligate example. 

This, in the first place, gives the world an 
unfavourable idea of the religion we profess; 
and, in the next place, a wicked example 
tends to corrupt, in some degree, every one 
that lives within its baneful influence. 

A dissolute life, especially in particular 
classes of men, is one certain way of making 
our brother to offend, not only in point of 
practice, but of belief; and there is another 
method of producing the same effects, nearly 
allied to this, and that is immoral publica- 
tions. 

These have the same tendency with bad 
examples, both in propagating vice and pro- 
moting infidelity ; but they are still more 
pernicious, because the sphere of their in- 
fluence is more extensive. A licentious 
publication is peculiarly fatal to the unsus- 
pecting and unguarded minds of the youth 
of both sexes; to them its " breath is poison, 
and its touch is death." 

These are the several modes in which we 
may weaken or even destroy the moral and 
religious principles of very sincere Christians, 



230 MATT. CHAP. XVIII. L. XXXV. 

or, in the words of Scripture, may make our 
brother to offend. And whoever is guilty of 
giving this offence, ought most seriously to 
consider the heavy punishment, and the 
bitter woe, which our Lord here denounces 
against it : " Whoso shall offend one of these 
little ones which believe in me, it were 
better for him that a mill-stone were hanged 
about his neck, and that he were drowned 
in the depth of the sea. Woe unto the 
world because of offences, for it must needs 
be that offences come ; but woe to that man 
by whom the offence cometh." These are 
tremendous words; but we cannot wonder 
that our Lord should express himself thus 
strongly, when we consider the dreadful 
consequences of spreading infidelity and im- 
morality among our fellow creatures. 

Every father of a family should be careful 
too that nothing escape his lips, in the un- 
guarded hour of familiar converse, that can 
be dangerous to the religious principles of 
his children, his friends, or his servants: even 
the friends of religion are sometimes apt, 
through mere inadvertence or thoughtless- 
ness, to indulge themselves in pleasantries, 
even upon serious subjects, which, though 



MATT. CHAP. XVIII. 231 

meant at the time merely to entertain their 
hearers, or to display their wit, yet often pro- 
duce a very different effect, and sink much 
deeper into the minds of those that are 
present (especially of young people) than 
they are in the least aware of. More mis- 
chief may sometimes be done by incidental 
levities of this kind, than by grave discourses 
or elaborate writings against religion. 

I proceed with the remaining part of our 
Lord's admonition to his disciples. 

After having said, in the seventh verse, 
f* Woe unto the world because of offences ; 
for it must needs be that offences come; 
but woe to that man by whom the offence 
cometh :" he then adds, " Wherefore if thy 
hand or thy foot offend thee cut them off, 
and cast them from thee, it is better for 
thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather 
than having two hands or two feet to be 
cast into everlasting fire ; and if thine eye 
offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from 
thee ; it is better for thee to enter into life 
with one eye, rather than having two eyes 
to be cast into hell fire." 

You must go at once to the root of the 
evil, you must extirpate those corrupt pas- 



232 MATT. CHAP. XVIII. L. XXXV. 

sions and propensities that have taken pos- 
session of your hearts, though it may be as 
difficult for you to part with them as it 
would be to pluck out an eye, or tear off a 
limb from the body. For it is better that 
you should renounce what is most dear to 
you in this life, than that you should suffer 
those dreadful punishments in the next, 
which I have told you will assuredly be in- 
flicted on all impenitent offenders, and more 
particularly on those who offend in the way 
here specified. 

Jesus then goes on to exemplify, by a 
familiar similitude, his paternal tenderness to 
the sons of men : — (i How think ye, if a man 
have a hundred sheep, and one of them be 
gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety 
and nine, and go into the mountains and 
seek that which is gone astray ? And if so 
be that he find it, verily I say unto you, 
he rejoiceth more of that sheep than of the 
ninety and nine that went not astray. Even 
so it is not the will of your Father that 
one of these little ones should perish. " We 
are not to infer from this similitude that 
God sets more value, and looks with more 
complacency and approbation on one re- 



MATT. CHAP. XVIII. 233 

penting sinner than on ninety and nine 
righteous persons who have uniformly and 
devoutly served him. This can never be 
imagined ; nor could it correspond with the 
illustration. The shepherd himself does not 
set a greater value upon the lost sheep than 
he does upon those that are safe; nor would 
he give up them to recover that which has 
strayed. But his joy for- the moment, at the 
recovery of the lost sheep, is greater than he 
receives from all the rest, because he has 
regained that, and is sure of all the others. 
The whole, therefore, that was meant to be 
inculcated by this parable is, that God's 
parental tenderness extends to all, even to 
the sinner that goes astray; and that he 
r.ejoices at the conversion and recovery of 
the meanest individual, and of the most 
grievous offender. This is the very con- 
clusion, and the only one, which our Lord 
himself draws from the parable. " Even so 
it is not the will of your Father, which is 
in heaven, that one of these little ones should 
perish." 

Such then being the mercy of the Al- 
mighty, even to his sinful creatures, our 



234 MATT. CHAP. XVIII. L. XXXV. 

Lord goes on to intimate to his disciples, that 
they ought also to exercise a similar lenity and 
forbearance towards their offending brethren. 
" If thy brother shall trespass against thee, 
go and tell his fault between thee and him 
alone. If he shall hear thee, thou hast 
gained thy brother. But if he will not hear 
thee, then take with thee one or two more, 
that in the mouth of two or three witnesses 
every word may be established ; and if he 
shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the 
church; but if he neglect to hear the church, 
let him be unto thee as a heathen man and 
a publican/' This passage is an allusion to 
the laws and customs of the Jews ; but the 
obvious meaning in regard to ourselves is, 
that even against those who have ill treated 
and injured us, we should not immediately 
proceed to extreme severity and rigour ; but 
first try the effects of private, and gentle, 
and friendly admonition ; if that fail, then 
call in two or three persons of character and 
reputation, to add weight and authority to 
our remonstrances ; and if that has no effect, 
we are then justified in bringing the offender 
before the proper tribunal, to be censured or 



MATT. CHAP. XVIII. 235 

punished as he deserves, avoiding all com- 
munication with him in future, except what 
common humanity may require even to- 
wards an enemy. 

We now come to one of the most inte- 
resting and most affecting parables that are 
to be found in Scripture. In consequence of 
what our Lord had said on the subject of in- 
juries, Peter came to him, and said, " Lord, 
how oft shall my brother sin against me, and 
I forgive him ? till seven times ?■•" Jesus 
saith unto him, " I say not unto thee, until 
seven times, but until seventy times seven ;" 
that is, this duty of forgiving injuries has no 
limits. However frequently you are injured, 
if real penitence and contrition follow the 
offence, a Christian is always bound to for- 
give. To illustrate and confirm this im- 
portant duty, our Lord subjoins the parable 
of the unforgiving servant. The object of 
this parable is not only to enforce the duty 
of cultivating a placable disposition, but a 
disposition constantly placable, always ready 
to forgive the offences of our brother, how- 
ever frequently he may repeat those offences. 
For it was immediately after our Lord had 
told Peter that he was to forgive his brother 



236 MATT. CHAP. XVIII. L. XXXV. 

not merely seven times, but seventy times 
seven, that he added this parable to con- 
firm that very doctrine; therefore, says he, is 
the kingdom of heaven like unto a certain 
king, &c. But then it is only upon this 
condition, that the offender is sincerely peni- 
tent, and entreats forgiveness. 

In the next place, I would remark that 
this parable is a practical comment on that 
petition in the Lord's Prayer, " forgive us 
our trespasses as we forgive them that tres- 
pass against us :" and it shows what infinite 
stress our Divine Master lays on this duty of 
forgiveness, by the care he takes to enforce 
it in so many different ways, by this parable, 
by making it a part of our daily prayers, 
and by his repeated declarations that we 
must expect no mercy from our Maker, 
" unless we from our hearts forgive every 
one his brother their trespasses." 

And yet it is dreadful to state what very 
little regard is paid to this precept by a large 
part of mankind. 

No man, I believe, ever heard or read 
the parable alluded to, without feeling his 
indignation rise against the ungrateful and 
unfeeling servant, who, after having a debt 



MATT. CHAP. XVIII. 237 

often thousand talents remitted to him by 
his indulgent lord, threw his fellow servant 
into prison for a debt of a hundred pence: 
and yet how frequently are we ourselves 
guilty of the very same offence ? 

Do we not every day see men resenting 
not only real injuries, but slight, and even 
imaginary offences ? Do we not even see 
families rent asunder, and all domestic tran- 
quillity and comfort destroyed, frequently 
by the most trivial causes, sometimes on 
one side, and sometimes on both, refusing to 
listen to any reasonable overtures of peace, 
haughtily rejecting all offers of reconciliation, 
and carrying their implacable rancour with 
them to the grave ? 

But let every man of this description 
remember, and most seriously reflect on 
this parable ; let him remember that the 
unfortunate servant was delivered over to 
the tormentors till he should pay the utter- 
most farthing. Let him recollect that all 
the world approves this sentence ; that he 
himself cannot but approve it ; that he can- 
not but feel himself to be precisely in the 
situation of that very servant, and that of 
course he must, at the last tremendous dav, 



238 MATT. CHAP. XIX. L, XXXVI. 

expect that bitter and unanswerable re* 
proach from his offended Judge, " O thou 
wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt 
because thou desiredst me; shouldst not 
thou also have had compassion on thy fel- 
low servant, even as I had pity on thee?" 



LECTURE XXXVI. 

MATTHEW, CHAPTER XIX. 

The present Lecture is a part of the nine- 
teenth chapter of St. Matthew, beginning at 
the sixteenth verse. 

" Behold/' says the evangelist H one came 
and said unto him (meaning Jesus), Good 
Master, what good thing shall I do that I 
may have eternal life ? And he said unto 
him, Why callest thou me good? there is 
none good but one, that is God : but if thou 
wilt enter into life, keep the commandments. 
He saith unto him, which ? Jesus said, 
thou shalt do no murder; thou shalt not 
commit adultery ; thou shalt not steal ; thou 
shalt not bear false witness. Honour thy 
father and thy mother: and thou shalt love 



MATT. CHAP. XIX. 239 

thy neighbour as thyself. The young man 
saith unto him, All these things have I kept 
from my youth up ; what lack I yet ? Jesus 
said unto him, if thou wilt be perfect, go and 
sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and 
thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and 
come and follow me. But when the young 
man heard that saying, he went away sor- 
rowful, for he had great possessions. " It is 
observable that our Lord does not recite all 
the ten commandments, but only five out of 
those that compose what is called the second 
table. Now we cannot imagine that Jesus 
meant to say that the observation of a few of 
God's commands would put the young man 
in possession of eternal life. His intention 
unquestionably was, by a very common 
figure of speech, to make a part stand for 
the whole; and instead of enumerating all 
the commandments, to specify only a few^ 
which were to represent the rest. Nor does 
he only include in his injunction the ten 
commandments, but all the moral com- 
mandments of God contained in the law of 
Moses ; for he mentions one which is not to 
be found in the ten commandments, " Thou 



240 



MATT. CHAP. XIX. L. XXXVI. 



shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." The 
young man saith unto him, " All these 
things have I kept from my youth up ; what 
lack I yet ?" To repress the imaginations 
of his perfections, which Jesus saw rising in 
his mind, he replied, " If thou wilt be per- 
fect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to 
the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in 
heaven; and come and follow me." The 
young man made no reply; he could not. 
He saw all his pretensions to perfection, his 
hopes of an extraordinary reward, vanish at 
once. He was not disposed to purchase 
even treasure in heaven at the price of all 
he possessed on earth. He therefore went 
away silent and sorrowful, for he had great 
possessions. Our Lord thus convinced him 
that he was very far from that exalted state 
of piety and virtue to which he pretended, 
and that if he was rewarded with eternal 
life, it must not be in consequence of his 
own righteousness, but of the mercy of God, 
and the merits of a Redeemer, as vet un- 
known to him. 

Our Saviour's command does not, in its 
primary meaning, relate to Christians of the 



MATT. 'CHAP. XIX. 241 

present times; nor indeed to Christians at 
all, properly speaking, but to those who 
were at that time desirous of becoming so. 

But though in a strict and literal sense it 
cannot be applied to ourselves, yet in its 
principle and in its general import, it conveys 
a most useful and most important lesson to 
Christians in every age and in every nation ; 
it is an admonition to them not to pique them- 
selves too much on their exact obedience to 
all the divine commands, not to assume to 
themselves so much perfection as to found 
upon it a right and a claim to eternal life ; 
not to rely solely on their own righteous- 
ness, but on the merits of their Redeemer, 
for acceptance and salvation. It reminds 
them also, that they ought always to be 
prepared to yield an implicit obedience to 
the commands of their Maker ; and that if 
their duty to him should at any time require 
it, they should not hesitate to renounce 
their dearest interests and most favourite 
pleasures ; to part with fame, w r ith fortune, 
and even life itself; and under all circum- 
stances to consider, in the first place, what it 
is that God requires at their hands, and to 
submit to it, whatever it may cost them, 
without a murmur. 

R 



242 MATT. CHAP. XIX. L. XXXVI. 

After this conversation with the young 
ruler, follows the observation made by our 
Lord on this remarkable incident. Then 
said Jesus unto his disciples, " Verily I say 
unto you, it is easier for a camel to go 
through the eye of a needle, than for a rich 
man to enter the kingdom of God." When 
his disciples heard it they were amazed, 
saying, "Who then can be saved?" But 
Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, 
" With men this is impossible, but with God 
all things are possible." 

The first thing to be remarked is, that 
although the similitude here made use of, 
that of a camel passing through the eye of 
a needle, implies absolute impossibility, yet, 
according to every rule of interpreting ori- 
ental proverbs, it means only in its appli- 
cation, great difficulty; and is plainly so in- 
terpreted by our Lord, when he says that a 
rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom 
of heaven. 

Those rich men only are meant who trust 
in their riches, who place their whole de- 
pendance upon them ; whose views and 
hopes are centred in them, and them only; 
who place their whole happiness, not in re- 
lieving the distresses of the poor, and sooth- 



MATT. CHAP. XIX. 243 

ing the sorrows of the afflicted, not in acts of 
worship and adoration and tnanksgiving to 
Him, from whose bounty they derive every 
blessing they enjoy ; not in giving him their 
hearts, and dedicating their wealth to his 
glory and his service; but in amassing it 
without end, or squandering it without any 
benefit to mankind, in making it the instru- 
ment of pleasure, of luxury, of dissipation, of 
vice, and the means of gratifying every 
irregular appetite and passion without con- 
trol. These are the rich men whose salva- 
tion is represented by our Saviour to be 
almost impossible ; and yet even with re- 
spect to these he adds, With men this is 
impossible, but with God all things are pos- 
sible; that is. although if we look to human 
means, to human strength alone, it seems 
utterly impossible that such men as these 
should ever repent and be saved ; yet to the 
power of God, to the overruling influences 
of the Holy Spirit, nothing is impossible. 
His grace shed abroad in the heart may 
touch it with compunction and remorse, 
may awaken it to penitence, may heal all 
its corruptions, may illuminate, may purify, 
may sanctify it, may bring the most worldly 

r2 



244 MATT. CHAP. XIX. L. XXXVI. 

minded man to a sense of his condition, and 
make him transfer his trust from riches to 
the living God. 

It is then to those that trust in riches that 
this denunciation of our Lord peculiarly 
applies; but even to all rich men in general it 
holds out this most important admonition, 
that their situation is at the best a situation 
of difficulty and danger ; that their riches 
furnish them with so many opportunities of 
indulging every wayward wish, every cor- 
rupt propensity of their hearts, and spread 
before them so many temptations, so many 
incitements, so many provocations to luxury, 
intemperance, sensuality, pride, forgetful- 
ness of God, and contempt of every thing- 
serious and sacred, that it is too much for 
human nature to bear; that they have there- 
fore peculiar need to take heed to their 
ways, to watch incessantly over their own 
conduct, to keep their hearts with all dili- 
gence, to guard the issues of life and death, 
and, above all, to implore with unceasing 
earnestness and fervour that help from above, 
those communications of divine grace, which 
can alone enable them to overcome the 
world, and to vanquish all the powerful 



MATT. CHAP. XIX. 245 

enemies they have to contend with. They 
have, in short, their way plainly marked 
out to them in Scripture, and the clearest 
directions given them how they are to con- 
duct themselves so as to become partakers of 
everlasting life. " Charge them (says St. 
Paul) that are rich in this world, that they 
he not highminded, nor trust in uncertain 
riches, but in the living God, who giveth us 
richly all things to enjoy ; that they do good, 
that they be rich in good works, ready to 
distribute, willing to communicate, laying 
up in store for themselves a good foundation 
against the time to come, that they may lay 
hold on eternal life." 

This striking charge to the rich is full of 
most important and wholesome advice. It 
cautions the rich men of the world not to 
trust in uncertain riches, but they are en- 
joined to place their trust in the living 
God. Those riches, which are their natural 
enemies, must be converted into allies and 
friends. These must, as the Scripture ex- 
presses it, make to themselves *' friends of 
the mammon of unrighteousness;" they must 
be rich towards God; they must turn that 
wealth, which is too often the cause of their 



246 MATT. CHAP. XIX. L. XXXVI. 

perdition, into an instrument of salvation, 
into an instrument by which they may lay 
hold, as the apostle expresses it, on eternal 
life. 

Jesus then goes on to say, " Every one 
that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or 
sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or chil- 
dren, or lands, for my name's sake, shall 
receive an hundred fold, and shall inherit 
everlasting life." It is plain that the reward, 
whatever it might be, was to be bestowed in 
the present world; besides which they were 
to inherit everlasting life. 

What then, it may be asked, is this re- 
compense, which was to take place in the 
present life, and was to be an hundred fold ? 
It is that internal content and satisfaction of 
mind, that peace of God which passeth all 
understanding, those delights of a pure con- 
science and an upright heart, that affection- 
ate support of all good men, those consola- 
tions of the Holy Spirit, that trust and confi- 
dence in God, that consciousness of the 
divine favour and approbation, those reviv- 
ing hopes of everlasting glory, which every 
good man and sincere Christian never fails 
to experience in the discharge of his duty. 



MATT. CHAP. XIX. 247 

These are the things which will cheer his 
heart and sustain his spirits amidst all the 
discouragements he meets with, under the 
pressure of want, of poverty, affliction, of 
calumny, of ridicule, of persecution, and 
even under the terrors of death itself, which 
will recompense him an hundred fold for all 
the sacrifices he has made to Christ and his 
religion, and impart to him a degree of com- 
fort and tranquillity and happiness far be- 
yond any thing that all the wealth and 
splendour of this world can bestow. 

Here then we have a full explanation of 
our Lord's promise in the passage before us. 
that every one who had forsaken houses, or 
brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or 
wife, or children, or lands, for his name's 
sake, should receive an hundred fold, should 
receive abundant recompense in the com- 
fort of their own minds, as described in 
the corresponding passage of St. Paul, which 
may be considered not only as an admirable 
comment on our Lord's declaration, but as 
an exact fulfilment of the prediction con- 
tained in it. For that declaration is plainly 
prophetic; it foretells the persecution his 
disciples would meet with in the discharge 



248 MATT. CHAP. XIX. L. XXXVI. 

of their duty; and foretells, also, that in the 
midst of these persecutions they would be 
undaunted and joyful. And there cannot 
be a more perfect completion of any pro- 
phecy than that which St. Paul's description 
sets before us with respect to this. 

But we must not confine this promise of 
our Saviour's to his own immediate followers 
and disciples; it extends to all his faithful 
servants in every age and nation in the 
world, that part with any thing that is dear 
and valuable to them for the sake of the 
Gospel. 

Whoever has passed any time in the world 
must have seen that everv man who is sin- 
cere in the profession of his religion, who 
sets God always before him, and who seeks 
above all things his favour and approbation, 
must sometimes make great and painful 
sacrifices to the commands of his Maker and 
Redeemer; and whoever does so, whoever 
gives up his pleasures, his interests, his fame, 
his favourite pursuits, his fondest wishes, 
and his strongest passions, for the sake of his 
duty, and in conformity to the will of his 
heavenly Father, may rest assured that he 
shall in no wise lose his reward. He shall, in a 



vMATT. CHAP. XIX. 249 

degree proportioned to the self-denial he has 
exercised, and the sufferings he has under- 
gone, experience the present comfort and 
support promised to the apostles; and shall 
also, though not to the same extent, have an 
extraordinary recompense in the kingdom of 
heaven. 

Let no one then be deterred from perse- 
vering in the path of duty, whatever dis- 
couragements, difficulties, or obstructions 
he may meet with in his progress, either 
from the struggles he has from his own cor- 
rupt affections, or from the malevolence of 
the world. Let him not fear to encounter 
what he must expect to meet with, oppo- 
sition, contumely, contempt, and ridicule; 
let him not fear the enmity of profligate 
and unprincipled men, but let him go on 
undaunted and undismayed in that uniform 
tenour of piety and benevolence, of purity, 
integrity, and uprightness of conduct, which 
will not fail to bring him peace at the last. 
Let him not be surprised or alarmed if he is 
not exempt from the common lot of every 
sincere and zealous Christian; if he finds it 
by his own experience to be true what an 
apostle of Christ had long since prepared 



250 MATT. CHAP. XIX. L. XXXVI. 

him to expect, that whosoever will live godly 
in Christ Jesus shall, in some way or other, 
suffer persecution : but let him remember at 
the same time the reviving and consolatory 
declaration of his divine Master, " Blessed 
are ye when men shall revile you, and per- 
secute you, and shall say all manner of evil 
against you falsely for my sake. Rejoice 
and be exceeding glad; for great is your 
reward in heaven. " 



LECTURE XXXVII. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. XXVI. 

The twenty-sixth chapter of St. Matthew 
will be the subject of the present Lecture, 
and it begins with informing us, that two 
days before the great feast of the Passover 
the chief priests, and the scribes, and the 
elders of the people assembled together unto 
the palace of the high priest, who was called 
Caiphas, and consulted that they might take 
Jesus by subtilty and kill him. 

A remarkable occurrence in this chapter 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. 251 

is the institution of the Sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper by our Saviour, when he was 
eating the Passover with his disciples. 

The Passover was one of the most solemn 
and sacred feasts of the Jews. It was so 
called because it was established in com- 
memoration of the deliverance of the Jews 
from their bondage in Egypt, at which time 
the destroying angel, when he put to death 
the firstborn of the Egyptians, passed over the 
houses of the Israelites, which were all 
marked with the blood of the lamb that 
had been killed and eaten the evening be- 
fore in every Hebrew house, and was there- 
fore called the Paschal Lamb. 

This great festival our Saviour observed 
with his disciples the evening before he 
suffered, and with them ate the paschal 
lamb, which was a prophetic type of him- 
self: for he was the real paschal lamb that 
w r as sacrificed for the sins of men. He was 
the lamb slain from the foundation of the 
world ; the lamb without blemish and with- 
out spot, as the paschal lamb was ordered to 
be. There can be no doubt, therefore, that 
the paschal lamb of the Jews was meant to 
be an emblem of our Lord. The slaying of 



252 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVII. 

that lamb prefigured the slaying of Christ 
upon the cross ; and as those houses which 
were sprinkled with the blood of the lamb 
were passed over by the destroying angel, 
so they whose souls are sprinkled with the 
blood of Christ are saved from destruction, 
and their sins passed over and forgiven for his 
sake : and it is a very remarkable circum- 
stance that our Saviour was crucified, and 
our deliverance from the bondage of sin 
completed, in the same month, and on the 
same day of the month, that the Israelites 
were delivered from the bondage of Egypt, 
by their departure from that land. For the 
Israelites went out of Egypt, and Christ was 
put to death, on the fifteenth day of the 
month Nisan. 

I have premised thus much respecting the 
passover and the paschal lamb, because it 
will throw considerable light on the true 
nature and meaning of the sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper, which Jesus now "instituted, 
and of which the evangelist gives the follow- 
ing account : — " When the even was come, 
our Lord sat down with the twelve to eat 
the passover ; and as they were eating, Jesus 
took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. 253 

gave it to tils disciples, and said, Take, eat; 
this is my body. And he took the cup, and 
gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, 
Drink ye all of it; for this is my blood of 
the New Testament, which is shed for many 
for the remission of sins." This is the whole 
of the institution of the sacred rite by our 
blessed Lord, as recorded in St. Matthew's 
Gospel ; and nothing can be more evident 
than that when he brake the bread, and 
gave it to his disciples, and said, " Take, 
eat, this is my body ;" he meant to say that 
the bread was to represent his body, and 
the breaking of it was to represent the 
breaking of his body upon the cross. In the 
same manner, when he took the cup and 
gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, 
" Drink ye all of it, for this is my blood of 
the New Testament (or New Covenant) 
which is shed for many for the remission of 
sins;" his meaning was, that the wine in the 
cup was to be a representation of his blood 
that was shed upon the cross as an expiation 
and atonement for the sins of the whole 
world. And his disciples were to eat the 
bread, and drink the wine so consecrated, 
and so appropriated to this particular pur- 



254 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVII. 

pose, in grateful remembrance of what our 
Lord suffered for their salvation, and that of 
all mankind ; for St. Luke adds these affect- 
ing and impressive words of our Saviour, 
This do in remembrance, of me. 

The Lord's Supper therefore was evi- 
dentty to be a solemn commemoration and 
recognition of the redemption and deliver- 
ance of mankind by the death of Christ, as 
the feast of the passover was of the deliver- 
ance of the Israelites from the destroying 
angel. 

The Jews would see that this Supper of 
our Lord was from that time to be substi- 
tuted in the room of the passover ; and that 
they might have no doubt on this head, our 
Lord expressly declares that this was to be 
the case; for, immediately after the institu- 
tion of this Sacrament, he adds, " I say unto 
you, I will not drink henceforth of this fruit 
of the vine, until the day when I drink it 
new with you in my Father's kingdom/' 
The meaning is, that this is the last time 
that this supper shall be a representation of 
the passover. The shadow passes away, the 
substance takes place ; and when you eat 
this supper in remembrance of me, then will 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. 255 

I be virtually present among you, and your 
souls shall be nourished and refreshed by 
my grace, as your bodies are by the bread 
and wine. 

I only observe further, that whoever reads 
with attention this first institution of the 
Lord's Supper, whoever reflects that it was 
the last meal that our Lord ate with his 
disciples, that the next day he underwent for 
our sakes a most excruciating and ignomini- 
ous death, and that he requires us to receive 
this Sacrament in remeryibrance of him; who- 
ever, I say, can, notwithstanding all this, 
disobey the last command of his dying Re- 
deemer, must be destitute not only of all the 
devout sentiments of a Christian, but of all 
the honest feelings of a man. 

Our Lord and his apostles, after having 
kept the passover, went into the mount of 
Olives; and as they went, Jesus saith unto 
them, " All ye shall be offended because of 
me this night ; for it is written, I will smite 
the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock 
shall be scattered abroad. But after I am 
risen again, I will go before you into Gali- 
lee/' This was a prophetic warning to his 
disciples, that they would all be terrified by 



256 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVIT. 

the dangers that awaited him, and would 
desert and virtually renounce him that very 
night. But to console and support them 
under this trial, our Lord assures them that 
he would rise again from the dead, and 
after his resurrection would meet them at a 
certain place he appointed in Galilee. 

We are now arrived at a very awful and 
somewhat mysterious part of our Saviour's 
history, his agony in the garden. 

" Then cometh Jesus with them to a 
place called Gethsemene; and he said unto 
his disciples, Sit ye here, while I go and 
pray yonder. And he took with him, into 
a retired part of the garden, Peter, and the 
two sons of Zebedee, James and John, the 
very same disciples who accompanied him 
at his transfiguration, that they who had 
been witnesses of his glory might be wit- 
nesses also of his humiliation and affliction. 
Then saith he unto them, My soul is ex- 
ceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry 
ye here, and watch with me. And he went 
a little farther, and fell on his face, and 
prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, 
(that is, if it be possible for man to be saved, 
and thy glory promoted as effectually in 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. 257 

any other way as by my death) let this cup, 
this bitter cup of affliction, pass from me: 
nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt. 
And he cometh unto his disciples and findeth 
them asleep, and saith unto Peter, What, 
could ye not watch with me one hour ? you 
who so lately made such vehement profes- 
sions of attachment to me! Watch and 
pray, that ye enter not into temptation." 
Ye have need to watch and pray for your 
own sakes, as well as mine, that you may 
not be overcome by the severe trials that 
await you, nor be tempted to desert me. 
Yet at the same moment, feeling for the 
infirmity of human nature, he adds, " the 
spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is 
weak." That is, I know your hearts are 
right, and your intentions good ; but the 
weakness of your frail nature overpowers 
your best resolutions, "and the thing which 
ye would ye do not." " He went away 
again the second time, and prayed, saying, 
O my Father, if this cup may not pass away 
from me, except I drink it, thy will be 
done. And he came and found them asleep 
again, for their eyes were heavy. And he 
left them and went away again, and prayed 



258 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVII. 

the third time, saying the same words. Then 
cometh he to his disciples, and saith unto 
them, Sleep on noxv and take your rest; 
behold the hour is at hand, and the Son of 
man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. 
Rise, let us be going : behold he is at hand 
that doth betray me." That is, henceforth 
you may take your rest ; your watching 
can be of no further use to me ; my trial is 
over, my agony is subdued, and my destiny 
determined. I shall soon be betrayed into 
the hands of sinners. Arise, therefore, let 
us go and meet this danger. Behold, he 
that betrayeth me is at hand. 

This is the account given us of what is 
called our Saviour's agony in the garden ; in 
the nature and circumstances of which there 
is certainly something "difficult to be under- 
stood ;" but it is at the same time replete 
with instruction and consolation to every 
disciple of Christ. 

We may observe that the terror and 
distress of our Lord's mind on this occasion 
seems to have been extreme, and the agony 
he endured, in the highest degree poignant 
and acute. He is said here to be " exceed- 
ing sorrowful, even unto death." St. Mark 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. * 259 

adds that he was " sore amazed and very- 
heavy ;" and St. Luke tells us, that, " being 
in agony, he prayed most earnestly ; and 
his sweat was, as it were, great drops of 
blood falling down to the ground." To 
what cause could these uncommonly painful 
sensations be owing ? 

Whatever these causes might be, the 
agonizing distresses he experienced clearly 
prove that there never was " a sorrow, in 
every respect, like unto his sorrow." It is 
evident, indeed, that there w r as some other 
cause of his agony beside that of his ap- 
proaching death ; for it is said in the epistle 
to the Hebrews, that he was heard in that he 
feared; that is, he was delivered from the 
terrors that oppressed him; and yet he knew 
he was not delivered from the death of the 
cross. 

This remarkable event presents to us in- 
structions the most edifying, and reflections 
the most consolatory, to the weakness of our 
nature. 

We see that our Lord did not pretend to 
that unfeeling heroism, that total insensi- 
bility to pain and affliction, which some of 
the ancient philosophers affected. On the 

s 2 



260 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVII. 

contrary, in his human nature he felt like 
a man ; he felt the weight of his own sor- 
rows, and dropped the tear of sympathy for 
those of others. To those, therefore, who 
are oppressed and bowed down (as the best 
of men sometimes are) with a load of grief; 
who find, as the Psalmist expresses it, " their 
flesh and their heart failing," and their spirit 
sinking within them, it must be a most re- 
viving consideration to reflect that in this 
state even of extreme depression, there is 
no guilt; that it is no mark of God's dis- 
pleasure ; that even his beloved Son was no 
stranger to it ; that he was a man of sorrows, 
and well acquainted with grief; that there- 
fore he is not a hard, unfeeling, obdurate 
master, who cannot be touched with our 
infirmities, but one who was in all things 
tried and afflicted as we are, yet without 
sin." He knows what sorrow is ; he knows 
how hard it sometimes presses even on the 
firmest minds; and he will not fail to extend 
that relief to others for which even he him- 
self applied with so much fervency to the 
Father of all. 

From his example, too, on this occasion, 
we learn what conduct we ought to observe 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. 261 

when distress and misery overtake us. We 
are not only allowed, but encouraged by 
what he did, to put up our petitions to the 
throne of grace for help in time of need. 
We are permitted to pray for the removal 
of our calamities with earnestness and with 
fervour; we may implore the Almighty 
that the bitter cup of affliction may pass 
away from us; but the conclusion must 
always be (what his was) " not my will, O 
my Father, but thine be done." And one 
thing we may be assured of, that if the evils 
which overwhelm us are not removed, yet 
our supplications shall not be in vain ; we 
shall at the least be enabled to bear them. 
And though we must not expect to have 
an angel sent from heaven to support us, as 
was done to Jesus, yet we may expect, and 
expect with confidence, that a more angelic 
comforter, even the Spirit of God, will shed 
his healing influence over our souls, and 
preserve us from sinking even under the 
severest trials. 

Another lesson of importance this part of 
our Saviour's history may teach us. 

Extreme affliction, as we all but too well 
know, has a natural tendency not only to 



262 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVII. 

depress our spirits, but to sour our tempers, 
and to render us fretful and irritable, and 
severe towards the failings of others. But 
how did it operate on our blessed Lord ? 
Instead of injuring, it seemed rather to im- 
prove the heavenly mildness of his dispo- 
sition, and to make him more indulgent to 
the failings of his followers. For when, in 
the very midst of all his anguish, they could 
so far forget his sorrows, and their own pro- 
fessions of attachment to him, as to sink into 
sleep, how gentle was his reproof to them 
for this want of sensibility and attention to 
him : " Could ye not watch with me one 
hour ?" And even this affectionate rebuke 
he immediately tempers with a kind excuse 
for them : u the spirit truly is willing, but 
the flesh is weak/' 

Judas now, who betrayed our blessed 
Saviour, gave a sign to those who approached 
to apprehend him, and they came and laid 
hands on Jesus and took him. 

If it had been the intention of Providence 
to protect Jesus and his religion by force, 
a host of angels would have been sent to 
defend him, as one was actually sent to 
comfort him. But this would have defeated 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. 263 

the very purpose for which he came into 
the world, which was, that he should " make 
his soul an offering for sin/' The prophets 
foretold that he should do so. And besides 
this, nothing could be more abhorrent, from 
the spirit of his religion, than force, violence, 
and bloodshed. The only w T eapons he made 
use of were of a different nature, the sword of 
the Spirit, the shield of faith, and the armour 
of righteousness. 

Jesus being now in the possession of his 
enemies, they that had laid hold on him led 
him away to Caiaphas the high priest, where 
the scribes and the elders were assembled; 
and while his examination was going on in 
the council-room, Peter sat without in the 
palace, and being accused of being with 
Jesus, he thrice denied him ; and immedi- 
ately the cock crew. And Peter remem- 
bered the words of Jesus, who said unto 
him, Before the cock crow thou shalt deny 
me thrice. And he went out, and wept 
bitterly. 

This most interesting story is related by 
all the evangelists. There is, however, one 
circumstance added by St. Luke, so exqui- 



264 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVII. 

sitely beautiful and touching, that it well 
deserves to be noticed here : he tells us, 
that after Peter had denied Jesus thrice, 
u immediately, while he yet spake, the cock 
crew ; and the Lord turned and looked upon 
Peter." 

What effect that look must have had on 
the heart and on the countenance of Peter, 
every one may, perhaps, in some degree 
conceive ; but it is utterly impossible for any 
words to describe. The sacred historian 
therefore simply relates the fact, and only 
adds, " And Peter remembered the words of 
the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before 
the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice ; 
and he went out, and wept bitterly." 

The reflections that crowd upon the mind 
from this most affecting incident of Peter's 
denial of his Master are many and important. 
I can only touch slightly on a few. 

The first is, that this event in the history 
of St. Peter is a clear and striking accom- 
plishment of our Saviour's prediction, that 
before the cock crew he should deny him 
thrice. And there are in this same chapter 
no less than four other prophecies of our 



MATT. CHAP. XXVI. 265 

Lord, which were all punctually fulfilled, 
some of them, like this, within a few hours 
after they were delivered. 

The next observation resulting from the 
fall of Peter, is the melancholy proof it 
affords us of the infirmity of human nature, 
the weakness of our best resolutions when 
left to ourselves, and the extreme danger of 
confiding too much in our own strength. 
Peter's denial of his Lord has left a memor- 
able lesson, even to the best of men, not to 
entertain too high an opinion of their own 
constancy and firmness in the hour of temp- 
tation. " Let him that thinketh he standeth 
take heed lest he fall." 

And hence, in the last place, we see the 
wisdom and the necessity of looking beyond 
ourselves, of looking up to heaven for sup- 
port and assistance in the discharge of our 
duty. I£ when Peter was first forewarned 
by our Lord of his approaching denial of 
him, instead of repeating his professions of 
inviolable fidelity to him, he had with all 
humility confessed his weakness, and im- 
plored his divine Master to strengthen and 
fortify him for the trial that awaited him, 
the event probably would have been very 



266 MATT. CHAP. XXVI. L. XXXVII. 

different. For when, confiding as he did 
now in his own courage, he entreated Jesus 
to let him walk to him upon the sea, and 
was permitted to do so; no sooner did he 
find the wind boisterous than he was afraid, 
and beginning to sink, he cried out, " Lord 
save me ! and immediately Jesus stretched 
forth his hand and caught 11™/' This was 
a plain intimation to him that it was not his 
own arm that could help him, but that 
Almighty hand, and that outstretched arm, 
which then preserved him; and to which, 
when in danger, we must all have recourse 
to prevent us from sinking. " Trust then in 
the Lord" (as the wise king advises) ?! with 
all thine heart, and lean not to thine own 
understanding. In all thy ways acknow- 
ledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." 



267 



LECTURE XXXVI1L 

MATTHEW, CHAP. XXVII. 

After the chief priests and elders had in a 
summary way decided the fate of Jesus, 
and pronounced him guilty of death, their 
next care was how to get this sentence con- 
firmed and carried into execution : they 
determined to carry him before Pilate ; and, 
to ensure success, to give such colour and 
shape to their accusations as should prevail 
on the governor to put him to death ; for 
this purpose they changed their ground of 
accusation, and charged him with treason- 
able and seditious practices, knowing that 
Pilate the governor, who was a pagan, 
would pay little attention to their charge of 
blasphemy. Accordingly we are told, in 
the beginning of this chapter, that " when 
morning was come, all the chief priests and 
the elders of the people took counsel against 
Jesus to put him to death ;" that is, to obtain 
permission to put him to death ; u and when 



268 MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

they had bound him they led him away, 
and delivered him to Pontius Pilate the 
governor." 

The evangelist having brought the history 
of this diabolical transaction thus far, makes 
a short digression, to inform us of the fate of 
that wretched traitor Judas, who had by his 
perfidy brought his Master into this situa- 
tion. 

" ^Then Judas, which had betrayed him, 
when he saw that he was condemned, re- 
pented himself, and brought again the thirty 
pieces of silver to the chief priests and 
elders, saying, I have sinned, in that I have 
betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, 
What is that to us ? See thou to that. And 
he cast down the pieces of silver in the 
temple, and went and hanged himself." 

From the character of Judas, I think we 
must not conclude that by the expression he 
repented himself, that the acquittal or con- 
demnation of Jesus ever entered into his 
contemplation. All he thought of was gain. 
He had kept the common purse, and had 
robbed it ; and his only object was how to 
obtain a sum of money, which he deter- 
mined to have at all events, and left conse- 



MATT. CHAP. XXVII. 269 

quences to take care of themselves. But 
when he saw that his divine Master, whom 
he knew to be perfectly innocent, was actu- 
ally condemned to death, his conscience then 
flew in his face ; his guilt then rose up before 
him in all its horrors. The innocence, the 
virtues, the gentleness, the kindness of his 
Lord, with a thousand other circumstances, 
rushed at once upon his mind, and painted to 
him the enormity of his crime in such dread- 
ful colours, that he could no longer bear the 
agonizing tortures that racked his soul, but 
went immediately and destroyed himself. 

The answer of the chief priests to Judas, 
" What is that to us ? See thou to that," was 
a perfectly natural one for men of their 
character. With the guilt or innocence of 
Jesus they did not concern themselves. All 
they wanted was the destruction of a man 
whom they hated and feared, and whose 
life and doctrine was a standing reproach to 
them ; as to the mercy or the justice of the 
case, they were at perfect ease ; and yet 
these very men, who had no scruple in mur- 
dering an innocent person, had wonderful 
qualms of conscience about putting into the 
treasury the money which they themselves 



270 MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

had given as the "price of blood." " The 
chief priests took the silver pieces, and said, 
It is not lawful for us to put them into the 
treasury, because it is the price of blood. 
And they took counsel, and bought with 
them the potter's field, to bury strangers in. 
Wherefore that field was called the Field of 
Blood unto this day. Then was fulfilled 
that which was spoken by Jeremy the pro- 
phet, saying, And they took the thirty pieces 
of silver, the price of him that was valued, 
whom they of the children of Israel did 
value, and gave them for the potter's field, 
as the Lord appointed me." 

After this account of Judas Iscariot, the 
evangelist proceeds in his history. 

" And Jesus stood before the governor" 
Little did that governor imagine who it was 
that then stood before him. Little did he 
suspect that he must himself one day stand 
before the tribunal of that very person whom 
he was then going to judge as a criminal ! 

The charge against Jesus before Pilate 
was sedition and treason. " They began to 
accuse him, saying, We found this fellow 
perverting the nation, and forbidding to give 
tribute to Caesar, saying that he himself is 



MATT. CHAP. XXVII. 271 

Christ a king/' " Pilate asked him, Art 
thou the King of the Jews ? And Jesus said 
unto him, Thou sayest." That is, I am 
what thou sayest. " And when he was 
accused of the chief priests and elders, he 
answered nothing. Then said Pilate unto 
him, Hearest thou not how many things 
those witness against thee ? And he answered 
him never a word ; insomuch that the gover- 
nor marvelled greatly." Our Lord's con- 
duct on this occasion was truly dignified. 
When he was called upon to acknowledge 
what was really true, he gave a direct 
answer both to the chief priests and to 
Pilate. He acknowledged that he was the 
Christ, the Son of God, the King of the 
Jews ; but false, and frivolous, and unjust 
accusations, he treated as they deserved, 
with profound and contemptuous silence. 

It appears, however, from St. John, that 
although Jesus declared he was the King of 
the Jews, yet he explained to Pilate the 
nature of his kingdom, which he assured 
him was not of this world. And Pilate, 
satisfied with this explanation, and seeing 
clearly that the whole accusation was mali- 
cious and groundless, made several efforts to 



272 MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

save Jesus. But every thing that he could 
do was in vain ; for we are told, that " the 
chief priests and elders persuaded the multi- 
tude that they should ask Barabbas and de- 
stroy Jesus/' 

While this was passing, an extraordi- 
nary incident took place, which must needs 
have made a deep impression on the mind of 
Pilate. " When he was sat down upon the 
judgment seat, his wife sent unto him, say- 
ing, Have thou nothing to do with that just 
man ; for I have suffered many things this 
day in a dream because of him." But after 
redoubling his efforts to save Jesus in vain, 
he took water, and washed his hands before 
the multitude, saying, " I am innocent of 
the blood of this just person : see ye to it." 

This was at once a visible declaration of 
the innocence of Jesus, and of Pilate's reluc- 
tance in condemning him. To this the Jews 
made that answer, which must petrify every 
heart with horror. " Then answered all 
the people, and said, His blood be on us, and 
on our children. Then released he Barabbas 
unto them; and when he had scourged 
Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified." 

Let us now look back to the scene we 



MATT. CHAP. XXVII. 273 

have been contemplating, and the reflections 
that arise from it. 

It affords a most awful warning to the 
lower orders of the people to beware of 
giving themselves up, as they too frequently 
do, to the direction of artful and profligate 
leaders, who abuse their simplicity and cre- 
dulity to the very worst purposes, and make 
use of them only as tools, to accomplish their 
own private views of ambition, of avarice, 
of resentment, or revenge. 

And with respect to the judge himself \ 
who was so thoroughly convinced of the 
innocence of his prisoner, and actually used 
every means in his power to preserve him, 
even he had not the honesty and the courage 
to protect him effectually ; and his conduct 
affords a most dreadful proof what kind of a 
thing public justice was among the most 
enlightened people in the ancient heathen 
world. The fact is, he was afraid of the 
people; he was afraid of Csesar; he shrunk 
from the dangers that threatened him, and 
sacrificed his conscience and his duty to 
the menaces of a mob, and the dread of sove- 
reign power. 

We all know that no dangers, no threats, 

T 



274 MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

no fears could ever induce a British judge 
to act thus: and what is it that produces 
this difference between a Roman and a 
British judge ? It is this, that the former 
had no other principle to govern his con- 
duct but natural reason; whereas the British 
judge, in addition to his natural sentiments 
of right and wrong, and the dictates of the 
moral sense, has the principle of religion 
also to influence his heart; he has the un- 
erring and inflexible rules of evangelical 
rectitude to guide him ; he has that which 
will vanquish every other fear, the fear of 
God, before his eyes. He knows that he 
himself must one day stand before the Judge 
of all. 

This is one, among a thousand other proofs, 
of the benefits we derive, even in the present 
life, from the Christian revelation. It has, 
in fact, had a most salutary and beneficial 
influence on our most important temporal 
interests; and in various ways has left the 
most evident traces of its benevolent spirit 
in all the various subordinations, dependen- 
cies, and connexions of social life. 

But to return to the Roman governor: he 
endeavoured to clear himself from this guilt, 



MATT. CHAP. XXVII. 275 

and to satisfy his conscience, by the vain 
ceremony of washing his hands before the 
multitude, and declaring " that he was inno- 
cent of the blood of that just person." Alas ! 
not all the water of the ocean could wash 
away the foul and indelible stain of murder 
from his soul. Yet he hoped to transfer it 
to the accomplices of his crime. " See ye 
to it," says he to the people. And what 
answer did the people make to him ? " His 
blood" said they, " be on us and on our children." 
A most fatal imprecation, and most dread- 
fully fulfilled upon them at the siege of 
Jerusalem, when the vengeance of heaven 
overtook them with a fury unexampled in 
the history of the world ; when they were 
exposed at once to the horrors of famine, of 
sedition, of assassination, and the sword of 
the Romans. And it is very remarkable 
that there was a striking correspondence be- 
tween their crime and their punishment. 
They put Jesus to death when the nation 
was assembled to celebrate the passover; 
and, when the nation was assembled for 
the same purpose, Titus shut them up within 
the walls of Jerusalem. The rejection of 
the true Messiah was their crime, and the 

t2 



276 MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

following of false Messiahs to their destruc- 
tion was their punishment. They bought 
Jesus as a slave, and they themselves w 7 ere 
afterwards sold and bought as slaves, at the 
lowest prices. They preferred a robber and 
murderer to Jesus, whom they crucified be- 
tween two thieves; and they themselves 
were afterwards infested with bands of 
thieves and robbers. They put Jesus to 
death, lest the Romans should come and 
take away their place and nation ; and the 
Romans did come and take away their place 
and nation. And what is still more striking, 
and still more strongly marks the judgment 
of God upon them, they were punished 
with that very kind of death which they 
were so eager to inflict on the Saviour of 
mankind, the death of the cross ; and that 
in such prodigious numbers, that Josephus 
assures us there wanted wood for crosses, and 
room to place them in. 

The history then proceeds, and relates 
the cruelty, mockery, and insult our blessed 
Saviour experienced previously to his cruci- 
fixion. 

We turn with averted eyes from this scene 
of insolence and outrage, and can hardly 



MATT. CHAP. XXVII. 277 

bring our minds to believe that any thing in 
the shape of man could have risen to this 
height of wanton barbarity. 

" And they crucified him, and parted his 
garments, casting lots; that it might be ful- 
filled which was spoken by the prophet, 
they parted my garments among them, and 
upon my vesture did they cast lots/' 

" Then were two thieves crucified with 
him, the one on the right hand, the other 
on the left/' This was done with a view of 
adding to the ignominy of our Saviour's suf- 
ferings. But this act of malignity, like 
many other instances of the same nature, 
answered a purpose which the authors of it 
little thought of or intended. It was the 
completion of a prophecy of Isaiah, in 
which, alluding to this very transaction, he 
says of the Messiah, -" he was numbered 
with the transgressors/' They then con- 
tinued their insults upon him, even while 
hanging in agony upon the cross. We are 
then told, that " from the sixth hour there 
was darkness over all the land until the 
ninth hour/ , The sixth hour of the Jews 
corresponds to our twelve o'clock, and their 



278 . MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

ninth hour of course to our three. There 
was therefore a darkness over all the earth 
from twelve at noon till three in the after- 
noon. This darkness must have been super- 
natural and miraculous. And at the ninth 
hour our blessed Saviour breathed his last, 
having committed himself with boundless 
confidence to the care of the Almighty : 
" Father, into thy hands I commend my 
spirit/' 

Thus did Jesus hang no less than six 
hours in agonies upon the cross. And this, 
let it never be forgotten, was for us men, 
and for our salvation ! " And behold, the 
veil of the temple was rent in twain, from 
the top to the bottom ; and the earth did 
quake, and the rocks rent, and the graves 
were opened ; and many bodies of the saints 
which slept, arose, and came out of their 
graves after his resurrection, and went into 
the holy city, and appeared unto many." 

Such were the convulsions into which the 
whole frame of nature was thrown, when 
the Lord of all yielded up his life. 

The veil of the temple was rent in twain 
from the top to the bottom -, by which was 



MATT. CHAP. XXVII. 279 

signified the abolition of the whole Mosaic 
ritual, the removal of the partition between 
Jew and Gentile. 

Now when the centurion, and they that 
were with him, watching Jesus, saw the 
earthquake, and those things that were done, 
they feared greatly, saying, " Truly this was 
the Son of God." 

The centurion here mentioned was the 
Roman captain, who, with a guard of sol- 
diers, was ordered to attend the crucifixion 
of Jesus, and see the sentence executed. 
He placed himself, as St Mark informs us, 
over against Jesus : from that station he 
kept his eye constantly fixed upon him, and 
observed with attention every thing he said 
or did. And when he saw the meekness, 
the patience, the resignation, the firmness, 
with which our Lord endured the most 
excruciating torments; when he heard him 
at one time fervently praying for his mur- 
derers, at another disposing with dignity 
and authority of a place in Paradise to one 
of his fellow sufferers ; and at length with 
that confidence which nothing but conscious 
virtue and conscious dignity could at such 
time inspire, recommending his spirit into 



280 MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

the hands of his heavenly Father ; he could 
not but conclude him to be a most extra- 
ordinary person, and something more than 
human. But when, moreover, he observed 
the astonishing events that took place when 
Jesus expired ; the agitation into which the 
whole frame of nature seemed to be thrown; 
the supernatural darkness, the earthquake, 
the rending cf rocks, the opening of graves; 
he then burst out involuntarily into that 
striking exclamation, " Truly this was the 
Son of God." 

Here then we have a testimony to the 
divine character of our Lord, which must be 
considered as in the highest degree impartial 
and incorrupt; the honest, unsolicited testi- 
mony of a plain man, a soldier and a 
heathen ; the testimony, not of one who 
was prejudiced in favour of Christ and his 
religion, but of one who, by habit and edu- 
cation, was probably strongly prejudiced 
against them. 

And it is not a little remarkable, that the 
contemplation of the very same scene which 
so forcibly struck the Roman centurion, has 
extorted a similar confession from one of the 
most eloquent of modern sceptics, who, 



MATT. CHAP. XXVII. 281 

though he could bring himself to resist the 
evidence both of prophecy and of miracles, 
vet was overwhelmed with the evidence 
arising from the character, the sufferings, 
and the death of Jesus. I allude to the 
celebrated comparison between the death of 
Socrates and the death of Jesus, drawn by 
the masterly pen of Rousseau : the passage 
affords so forcible and so unprejudiced a 
testimony to the divinity of Christ, and 
bears so striking a resemblance to that of 
the centurion, that I shall be pardoned, I 
trust, for introducing it here as the conclu- 
sion of this Lecture. 

" Where (says he) is the man, where is 
the philosopher, who can act, suffer, and 
die, without weakness, and without ostenta- 
tion ? When Plato describes his imaginary 
just man, covered with all the opprobrium of 
guilt, yet at the same time meriting the 
sublimest rewards of virtue, he paints pre- 
cisely every feature in the character of Jesus 
Christ. The resemblance is so striking that 
all the fathers have observed it, and it is 
impossible to be deceived in it. What 
prejudice, what blindness, must possess the 
mind of that man who dares to compare the 



282 MATT. CHAP. XXVII. L. XXXVIII. 

son of Sophroniscus with the son of Mary ! 
What a distance there is between the one 
and the other ! The death of Socrates, 
philosophizing calmly with his friends, is 
the most gentle that can be wished ; that of 
Jesus, expiring in torments, insulted, derided, 
and reviled by all the people, the most 
horrible that can be imagined. Socrates, 
taking the poisoned cup, blesses the man 
who presents it to him ; and who, in the 
very act of presenting it, melts into tears. 
Jesus, in the midst of the most agonizing tor- 
tures, prays for his enraged persecutors. Yes, 
if the life and death of Socrates are those of 
a sage, the life and death of Jesus are those 
of a God." 



LECTURE XXXIX. 

MATTHEW, CHAP. XXVII. XXVIII. 

In the preceding Lecture we closed the 
dismal scene of our Lord's unparalleled suf- 
ferings, on which it is impossible to reflect 
without astonishment and horror, and with- 
out asking ourselves this question, Whence 



MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. 283 

came it to pass that so innocent, so excellent, 
so divine a person as the beloved. Son of 
God, in whom he was well pleased, should 
be permitted by his heavenly Father to be 
exposed to such indignities and cruelties, 
and finally to undergo the exquisite torments 
of the cross? The answer is, that the occa- 
sion of all this is to be sought for in our own 
sinful nature, in the depravity and* corrup- 
tion of the human heart, in the extreme 
wickedness of every kind which overspread 
the whole world at the time of our Lord's 
appearance upon earth, and which must 
necessarily have subjected the whole human 
race to the severest effects of the divine dis- 
pleasure, had not some atonement, some 
expiation, some satisfaction to their offended 
Maker been interposed between them and 
the punishment so justly due to them. This 
expiation, this atonement, the Son of God 
himself voluntarily consented to become, 
and paid the ransom required for our de- 
liverance by his own death upon the cross. 
" He gave himself for us (as the Scriptures 
express it), an offering and a sacrifice to 
God. He was the Lamb slain from the 
foundation of the world. He suffered for 



284 MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. L. XXXIX. 

sin, the just for the unjust, that he might 
bring us to God. He was wounded for our 
transgressions, he was bruised for our iniqui- 
ties; with his stripes we were healed. In 
his own blood he washed us from our sins ; 
in his own body he bore our sins upon the 
tree, that we, being dead unto sin, might live 
unto righteousness." This is that great doc- 
trine of Redemption, which is so fully ex- 
plained and so strongly insisted on in various 
parts of the sacred writings, which forms so 
essential a part of the Christian system, and 
is the grand foundation of all our hopes of 
pardon and acceptance at the great day of 
retribution. 

It must be acknowledged, that in the stu- 
pendous work of our redemption, there is 
something far beyond the power of our 
limited faculties to comprehend. 

That the Son of God himself should feel 
such compassion for the human race, as 
voluntarily to undertake the great and ardu- 
ous and painful task of rescuing them from 
sin and misery and eternal death ; that for 
this purpose he should condescend to quit 
the bosom of his Father, and the joys of 
heaven ; should divest himself of the glory 



MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. 285 

that he had before the world began; should 
not only take upon himself the nature o' 
man, but the form of a servant ; should sub- 
mit to a low and indigent condition, to 
indignities, to injuries and insults, and at 
length to a disgraceful and excruciating 
death, is indeed a mystery, but it is a mys- 
tery of kindness and of mercy; it is, as the 
apostle truly calls it, " a love that passeth 
knowledge ;" a degree of tenderness, pity, 
and condescension to which we have neither 
words nor conceptions in any degree equal. 
It is impossible for us not to cry out on this 
occasion with the Psalmist, " Lord, what is 
man, that thou art mindful of him? and the 
son of man, that thou visitest him ?" 

That our redemption by Christ is a mys- 
tery, a great and astonishing mystery, we 
readily acknowledge. But this was natu- 
rally to be expected, in a work of such infi- 
nite difficulty as that of rendering the mercy 
of God, in pardoning mankind, consistent 
with the exercise of his justice, and the sup- 
port of his authority, as the moral Governor 
of the world. Whatever could effect this, 
must necessarily be something far beyond 



28() MATT. XXVII. XXVIII* L. XXXIX. 

the comprehension of our narrow under- 
standings ; that is, must necessarily be mys- 
terious. And therefore this very circum- 
stance, instead of shocking our reason, and 
staggering our faith, ought to confirm the 
one, and satisfy the other. 

After the crucifixion of our Lord follows 
the account of his burial by Joseph of Ari- 
mathea, who went to Pilate and begged the 
body of Jesus; and having obtained it, 
wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid 
it in his own new tomb, which he bad hewn 
out of the rock ; and he rolled a great stone 
to the door of the sepulchre, and departed. 
This was the exact fulfilment of a prophecy 
in Isaiah, where, speaking of the promised 
Messiah or Christ, it is said, "he shall make 
his grave with the rich." And accordingly, 
Joseph, we are told, was a rich man, and an 
honourable counsellor. 

The chief priests and Pharisees then came 
together unto Pilate, saying, Sir, we re- 
member that that deceiver said, while he 
was yet alive, after three days I will rise 
again. Command therefore that the sepul- 
chre be made sure until the third day, lest 




MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. 287 

his disciples come by night and steal him 
away, and say unto the people, he is risen 
from the dead; so the last error shall be 
worse than the first. Pilate said unto them, 
Ye have a watch, go your way, make it as 
sure as you can. So they went, and made 
the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone and 
setting a watch. 

Here we see the chief priests using every 
possible precaution to prevent a fraud. For 
this purpose they went to Pilate to beg for 
a guard, immediately after our Lord was 
buried ; and one cannot help admiring the 
wisdom of Providence in so disposing events, 
that the extreme anxiety of these men, to 
prevent collusion, should be the means of 
adding the testimony of sixty unexception- 
able witnesses (the number of the Roman 
soldiers on guard) to the truth of the resur- 
rection, and of establishing the reality of it 
beyond all power of contradiction. 

The relation given by St. Matthew of our 
Lord's first appearance, after his resurrec- 
tion, to the women who came to the sepul- 
chre, and the accounts given by the three 
other evangelists, are substantially the same, 



288 MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. L. XXXIX. 

though differing in a few minute circum- 
stances of no moment. I shall therefore 
confine myself to the main fact of the resur- 
rection, in which all the evangelists agree, 
and of which the proofs are numerous and 
clear. 

The principal and most obvious are those 
which arise from the various appearances 
which Jesus made after his resurrection, to 
various persons, and at various times. 

The first was to Mary Magdalene alone. 

The second to her in company with seve- 
ral other women, as we have just seen. 

The third to Peter. 

The fourth to the two disciples going to 
Emmaus. 

The fifth to the apostles in Jerusalem, 
when they were assembled with the doors 
shut on the first day of the week ; at which 
time he showed them his hands and his feet, 
pierced with the nails, and did eat before 
them. 

The sixth, to the apostles a second time, 
as they sat at meat, when he satisfied the 
doubts of the incredulous Thomas, by making 
him thrust his hand into his side. 



MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. 289 

The seventh, to Peter and several of his 
disciples at the lake of Tiberias, when he 
also ate with them. 

The eighth, and last, was to above five 
hundred brethren at once. 

There are then no less than eight distinct 
appearances of our Lord to his disciples 
after his resurrection, recorded by the sacred 
historians. And can we believe that all 
those different persons could be deceived in 
these appearances of one whose countenance, 
figure, voice, and manner they had for so 
long a time been perfectly acquainted with; 
and who now, not merely presented himself 
to their view transiently and silently, but 
ate and drank and conversed with them, 
and suffered them to touch and examine 
him thoroughly, that they might be con- 
vinced by all their senses that it was truly 
their beloved Master, and not a spirit, that 
conversed with them ? 

The account therefore of the resurrection 
given by the evangelists may safely be relied 
upon as true. 

It may, however, be said, that this account 
is the representation of friends, of those who 
were interested in asserting the reality of a 

u 



290 MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. L. XXXIX. 

resurrection. We give, therefore, the story 
as told by the Jews and the Romans. 

In the eleventh verse of this chapter, St. 
Matthew informs us, " that as the women 
were going to tell the disciples that Jesus 
was risen, behold some of the watch came 
into the city, and showed unto the chief 
priests all the things that were done. And 
when they were assembled with the elders, 
and had taken counsel, they gave large 
money unto the soldiers, saying, Say ye his 
disciples came by night, and stole him away 
while we slept. And if this come to the 
governor's ears, we will persuade him, and 
secure you. So they took the money, and 
did as they were taught. And this saying 
is commonly reported among the Jews unto 
this day." 

This then is the statement of our adversa- 
ries, produced in opposition to that of the 
evangelists; which the latter simply relate, 
without any observation upon it, without con- 
descending to make the slightest answer to 
it, but leaving every man to judge of it for 
himself. And this indeed they might safely 
do; for it is a fabrication too gross and too 
palpable to impose on any man of common 



MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. 29 1 

sense. If any person can bring himself to 
believe that sixty Roman soldiers should he 
all sleeping at the same time on guard ; that 
they should be able to tell what was done in 
their sleep ; that they should have the bold- 
ness to confess that they slept upon their 
post, when they knew the punishment of 
such offence to be death ; and that the dis- 
ciples should be so devoid of all common 
sense as to steal away a dead body, which 
could not be of the smallest use to them, 
and instead of proving a resurrection, was 
a standing proof against it ; if any man, I 
say, can prevail on himself to listen for a 
moment to such absurdities as these, he 
may then give credit to the tale of the 
soldiers; but otherwise must treat it, as it 
truly deserves, with the most sovereign con- 
tempt. 

Another proof of the resurrection is the 
sudden and astonishing change which took 
place in the language and the conduct of 
the apostles, immediately after the period 
when they affirmed that Jesus had risen 
from the dead. From being, as we have 
seen, timorous and dejected, and discou- 
raged at the death of their Master, they 

u 2 



292 MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. L. XXXIX. 

suddenly became courageous, undaunted, 
and intrepid: and they boldly preached 
that very Jesus whom before they had de- 
serted in his greatest distress. This obser- 
vation will apply in some degree to all the 
apostles, but with regard to St. Peter, more 
particularly, it holds with peculiar force : 
for after noticing his conduct previous to the 
crucifixion, let us turn to the fourth chapter 
of the Acts, and see what his language was 
after Jesus had actually been put to death. 
He and John, having healed the lame 
man whom they found sitting at the gate of 
the temple, were apprehended and thrown 
into prison, and the next day were called 
upon to answer for their conduct before the 
high priest, and the other chief rulers of the 
Jews. And upon being questioned by what 
power and by what name they had per- 
formed this miraculous cure, Peter answered 
them in these resolute terms : " Ye rulers 
of the people, and elders of Israel, if we 
be this day examined of the good deed done 
to the impotent man, by what means he is 
made whole, be it known unto you all, and 
to all the people of Israel, that by the name 
of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom ye cruci- 



MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. 293 

tied, whom God raised from the dead, even 
by him doth this man stand before you 
whole. This is the stone which was set at 
nought by you builders, which is become 
the head of the corner. Neither is there 
salvation in any other. For there is none 
other name under heaven given among men 
whereby we must be saved." And when, 
soon after this, Peter and John were straitly 
threatened, and commanded not to speak at 
all or teach, in the name of Jesus, they 
answered and said unto them, "Whether it 
be right in the sight of God to hearken unto 
you rather than unto God, judge ye: for we 
cannot but speak the things Avhich we have 
seen and heard." 

In what manner shall we account for this 
sudden and astonishing alteration in the 
language of St. Peter? There is, I wil] 
venture to assert, no other possible way of 
accounting for it, but from that very circum- 
stance which St. Peter himself mentions in 
his speech to. the high priest, namely, "that 
he whom they had crucified was, by the 
Almighty power of God, raised from the 
dead." 

We have here then one more proof, in 



294 MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. L. XXXIX. 

addition to all the rest, of the resurrection 
of Christ, intelligible to the lowest, and 
convincing to the most improved under- 
standing. 

St. Paul goes so far as to make the belief 
of this single article the main ground and 
basis of our salvation. The reason of this 
is because the belief of the resurrection of 
Christ unavoidably leads to the belief of the 
whole Christian religion, to the truth of 
which God set his seal, by raising the author 
of it from the dead ; and the belief of the 
Christian revelation, if genuine and sincere, 
will, with the blessing of God on our own 
strenuous exertions, produce all those Chris- 
tian graces and virtues, which, through the 
merits of our Redeemer, will render our final 
calling and election sure. 

The resurrection of Christ being thus 
established on the firmest grounds, the con- 
clusions to be drawn from it are many and 
important; but I shall at present confine 
myself to two of them, which seem more 
particularly to deserve our notice. 

The first is, that this great event of the 
resurrection affords a clear and decisive proof 
that Jesus was, what he pretended to be, 



MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. 295 

the Son of God; that the religion he 
taught came from God ; that consequently 
every doctrine he delivered ought to be 
believed, every command he gave to be 
obeyed, and that every thing he promised 
or threatened will certainly come to pass. 
For had not his pretensions been well found- 
ed, and his religion true, it is impossible that 
the God of truth could have given them the 
sanction of his authority, by raising him from 
the dead. But by doing this, he gave the 
strongest possible attestation to the reality 
of his divine mission. 

The next inference from this fact is, that 
the resurrection of Christ is an earnest, a 
pledge, and a proof of our own. He had 
promised his disciples, " that where he w^as, 
there should they be also." And the Scrip- 
tures, in numberless places, assure us that 
we shall rise again from the grave, and be- 
come immortal. " For if the Spirit of him 
who raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in 
you, he that raised up Christ from the dead 
shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his 
Spirit that dwelleth in you." 

Since then we have such expectations 
and such hopes, what manner of persons 



296 MATT. XXVII. XXVIII. L. XXXIX. 

ought we to be in all holy conversation and 
godliness ? With what cheerfulness shall we 
acquiesce under poverty and misfortunes, 
when we reflect that if we bear them pati- 
ently, and hold fast our integrity, these light 
afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall 
work out for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory ! With what indif- 
ference shall we contemplate the charms of 
wealth and power, with what horror shall 
we turn away from the pleasures of sin, 
which are but for a season, when we know 
that the one may, and the other most cer- 
tainly will, cut us off from an eternal and in- 
valuable inheritance ! 

We are all " strangers and pilgrims upon 
earth. " This world is not our home, though 
we are too apt to think it so. We belong to 
another city, we are subjects of a better 
kingdom, where infinitely greater joys await 
us than can be described, or that the utmost 
stretch of imagination can conceive. Every 
day we live, every moment we breathe, 
brings us nearer to this country ; and the 
grave itself, dismal as it appears, is nothing 
more than the gate that leads us into it. 

Conscious then of the dignity and import- 



MATT. XXV J I. XXVIII. 297 

ance of our high and heavenly calling, which 
renders us candidates for the kingdom of 
God, and heirs of immortality, let us perse- 
vere steadily and uniformly in our progress 
towards those celestial mansions which are 
prepared for all the faithful servants of 
Christ ; where we shall be released from all 
the endless anxieties, the vain hopes, and 
causeless fears that now agitate and disquiet 
us, and shall, through the merits of our 
Redeemer, be rewarded, not merely with 
uninterrupted tranquillity and repose, but 
with a crown of glory that fadeth not away, 
with immortality in the kingdom of our 
Father and our God. 



MEMOIR 

OF 

HERMAN BOERHAAVE, 

THE CELEBRATED PHYSICIAN. 



He was one of the greatest physicians, as 
well as the best men, that this, or perhaps 
any age has ever produced. 

A declared foe to all excess, he considered 
decent mirth as the salt of life. It was the 
daily practice of this eminent person, through 
his whole life, as soon as he rose in the 
morning, which was generally very early, 
to retire for an hour to private prayer, and 
meditation on some part of the Scriptures. 
He often told his friends, when they asked 
him how it was possible for him to go through 
so much fatigue ? that it was this which 
gave him spirit and vigour in the business 
of the day. This he therefore recommended 
as the best rale he could give : for nothing^ 
he said, could tend more to the health of the 



MEMOIR OF BOERHAAVE. 299 

body than the tranquillity of the mind ; and 
that he knew nothing which could support 
himself, or his fellow creatures, amidst the 
various distresses of life, but a well grounded 
confidence in the Supreme Being upon the 
principles of Christianity. This was strongly 
exemplified in his own illness in 1722, by 
which the course of his lectures, as well as 
his practice, was long interrupted. He 
was for five months confined to his bed by 
the gout, where he lay upon his back with- 
out daring to attempt the least motion ; be- 
cause any effort renewed his torments, which 
were so exquisite that he was not only de- 
prived of motion but of sense. This patience 
was founded, not on vain reasonings, like 
that of which the Stoics boasted, but on a 
religious composure of mind, and Christian 
resignation to the will of God. 

Of his sagacity and the wonderful pene- 
tration with which he often discovered and 
described, at the first sight of a patient, such 
distempers as betray themselves by no symp- 
toms to common eyes, such surprising ac- 
counts have been given as scarcely can be 
credited, though attested beyond all doubt. 
Yet this great master of medical knowledge 



300 MEMOIR OF BOERHAAVE. 

was so far from having a presumptuous con- 
fidence in his abilities, or from being puffed 
up by his riches, that he was condescending 
to all, and remarkably diligent in his profes- 
sion : and he often used to say that the life 
of a patient (if trifled with or neglected) 
would one day be required at the hand of 
the physician. He always called the poor 
his best patients; for God (said he) is their 
paymaster. He was always cheerful, and 
desirous of promoting every valuable end 
of conversation, and the excellency of the 
Christian religion was frequently the subject 
of it ; for he asserted, on all proper occa- 
sions, the divine authority and sacred effi- 
cacy of the Scriptures, and maintained, 
that they only could give peace of mind, 
that sw r eet and sacred peace which passeth 
all understanding ; since none can conceive 
it but he who has it, and none can have it 
but by divine communication. He never 
regarded calumny or detraction, nor ever 
thought it necessary to confute them. " They 
are sparks (said he) which, if you do not 
blow, will go out of themselves. The surest 
remedy against scandal is to live it down by a 
perseverance in well doing, and by praying 



MEMOIR OF BOERHAAVE. 301 

to God that he would cure the distempered 
minds of those who traduce and injure us." 
Being once asked by a friend who had often 
admired his patience under great provoca- 
tions, whether he knew what it was to be 
angry, and by what means he had so en- 
tirely suppressed that impetuous and un- 
governable passion, he answered, with the 
utmost frankness and sincerity, that he was 
naturally quick of resentment, but that he 
had by daily prayer and meditation at length 
attained to this mastery over himself. 

About the middle of the year 1737, he 
felt the first approaches of that fatal illness 
which brought him to the grave ; three 
weeks before his dissolution, when the Rev. 
Mr. Schultens, one of the most learned and 
exemplary divines of the age, attended him 
at his country house, the doctor desired his 
prayers, and afterwards entered into a most 
remarkably judicious discourse on the spiri- 
tual and immaterial nature of the soul ; and 
this he illustrated with wonderful perspi- 
cuity, by a description of the effects which 
the infirmities of his body had upon his facul- 
ties, which yet they did not so oppress or 
vanquish, but that his soul was always master 



302 MEMOIR OF BOERHAAVE. 

of itself, and always resigned to the pleasure 
of its Maker : and then he added, " He who 
loves God ought to think nothing desirable 
but what is most pleasing to the supreme 
goodness." These were his sentiments, and 
such was his conduct in this state of weak- 
ness and pain. As death approached nearer, 
he was so far from terror or confusion, that 
he seemed less sensible of pain, and more 
cheerful under his torments, which continued 
till the 23d of September, 1738, on which 
day he died, in the seventieth year of his 
age ; often recommending to the by-stand- 
ers a careful observation of St. John's pre- 
cepts concerning the love of God and the 
love of man, as frequently inculcated in his 
first epistle, particularly in the fifth chapter. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 



THE FIRESIDE. 

Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd, 
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud, 

In Folly's maze advance ; 
Though singularity and pride 
Be cali'd our choice, we'll step aside, 

Nor join the giddy dance. 

From the gay world we'll oft retire 
To our own family and fire, 

Where love our hours employs; 
No noisy neighbour enters here, 
No intermeddling stranger near, 

To spoil our heartfelt joys. 

If solid happiness we prize, 
Within our breast this jewel lies; 

And they are fools who roam : 
The world has nothing to bestow ; 
From our ownselves our joys must flow, 

And that dear hut, our home. 

Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers, 
We, who improve his golden hours, 

By sweet experience know, 
That marriage, rightly understood, 
Gives to the tender and the good 

A paradise below. 



304 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 

Our babes shall richest comforts bring; 
If tutor'd right, they prove a spring 

Whence pleasures ever rise ; 
We'll form their minds with studious care, 
To all that's manly, good, and fair, 

And train them for the skies. 

While they our wisest hours engage, 
They'll joy our youth, support our age, 

And crown our hoary hairs : 
They'll grow in virtue every day, 
And thus our fondest loves repay, 

And recompense our cares. 

Our portion is not large, indeed; 
But then how little do we need! 

For nature's calls are few : 
In this the art of living lies, 
To want no more than may suffice, 

And make that little do. 

We'll therefore relish, with content, 
Whate'er kind providence has sent, 

Nor aim beyond our power ; 
For if our stock be very small, 
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all, 

Nor lose the present hour. 

WVll ask no long protracted treat, 
Since winter life is seldom sweet ; 

But, when our feast is o'er, 
Grateful from table we'll arise, 
Nor grudge our sons with envious eyes 

The relics of our store. . 

Thus hand in hand through life we'll go, 
Its chequer' d paths of joy and woe 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 305 

With cautious steps we'll tread ; 
Quit its vain scenes without a tear, 
Without a trouble, or a fear, 

And mingle with the dead. 

While conscience, like a faithful friend, 
Shall through the gloomy vale attend, 

And cheer our dying breath ; 
Shall, when all other comforts cease, 
Like a kind angel, whisper peace, 

And smooth the bed of death. 



ON SLANDER, 

What is that vice which still prevails, 
When almost ev'ry passion fails ; 
W T hich with our very dawn begun, 
Nor ends but with our setting sun; 
Which like a noxious weed can spoil 
The fairest flow'rs, and choke the soil ? 
'Tis Slander — and, with shame I own, 
The vice of humankind alone. 

Th' insidious sland'ring thief is worse 
Than the poor rogue who steals your purse; 
Say, he purloins your glittering store; 
Who takes your gold takes trash — no more ; 
Perhaps he pilfers, to be fed — 
Ah ! guiltless wretch who steals for bread ! 
But the dark villain who shall aim 
To blast, my fair, thy spotless name, 
He'd steal a precious gem away, 
Steal what both Indies can't repay! 



X 



306 POETICAL EXTRACTS, 



CONTENT. 

Life is a sea where storms must rise ; 
'Tis Folly talks of cloudless skies ; 
He who contracts his swelling sail, 
Eludes the fury of the gale. 

Be still, nor anxious thoughts employ; 
Distrust embitters present joy : 
On God for all events depend ; 
You cannot want when God's your friend. 
Weigh well your part, and do your best; 
Leave to your Maker all the rest. 
The Hand which form'd thee in the womb 
Guides from the cradle to the tomb. 
Heaven may not grant thee all thy mind; 
Yet say not thou that Heaven's unkind — 
God is alike both good and wise 
In what he grants and what denies : 
Perhaps what goodness gives to-day, 
To-morrow goodness takes away. 



PRESUMPTION OF DEPENDING ON TO- 
MORROW. 

In human hearts what bolder thoughts can rise, 
Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn ? 
Where is to-morrow ? In another world. 
For numbers this is certain ; the reverse 
Is sure to none ; and yet on this perhaps, 
As on a rock of adamant, we build 
Our mountain hopes ; spin out eternal schemes, 
And, big with life's futurities, expire. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 307 



PROCRASTINATION. 

Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer; 

Next day the fatal precedent will plead ! 

Thus on 'till wisdom is push'd out of time, 

Year after year it steals, 'till all are fled ; 

And to the mercies of a moment leaves 

The vast concerns of an eternal scene. 

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears 

The palm, " that all men are about to live ;" 

For ever on the brink of being born. 

All promise is poor dilatory man, 

And that through every stage : when young indeed, 

In full content, we sometimes nobly rest, 

Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, 

As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise : 

At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; 

Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; 

At fifty chides his infamous delay, 

Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; 

In all the magnanimity of thought 

Resolves ; and re-resolves : then dies the same. 



AVARICE OF TIME RECOMMENDED. 

Thou think'st it folly to be wise too soon. 
Youth is not rich in time ; it may be, poor: 
Part with it as with money, sparing ; pay 
No moment, but in purchase of its worth: 
Part with it as with life, reluctant ; big 
With holy hope of nobler time to come. 



X 



308 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 



WASTE OF TIME. 

Time's use was doom'd a pleasure ; waste, a painy 
That man might feel his error, if unseen; 
And, feeling, fly to labour for his cure. 
Life's cares are comforts; such by heaven design'd ; 
He, that has none, must make them, or be wretched. 
Cares are employments ; and without employ 
The soul is on a rack, the rack of rest ; 
To souls most adverse; action all their joy* 



CONSCIENCE. 



Conscience minutes every fault, 



And her dread diary with horror fills : 

Not the gross act alone employs her pen : 

She dawning purposes of heart explores ; 

Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied : 

In leaves more durable than leaves of brass 

Writes our whole history ; which death shall read 

In every pale delinquent's private ear ; 

And judgment publish: publish to more worlds 

Than this : and endless age in groans resound. 

And think'st thou still thou canst be wise too soon ? 



DEATH OF THE GOOD MAN. 

The death-bed of the just is yet undrawn 
By mortal hand; it merits a divine. 

The chamber where the good man meets his fate 
Is privileged beyond the common walk 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 509 

Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. 
Fly, ye profane! or else draw near with awe, 
For here resistless demonstration dwells ; 
Here tired dissimulation drops her mask, 
Here real and apparent are the same. 
You see the man; you see his hold on heaven: 
Heaven waits not the last moment, owns its friends 
On this side death ; and points them out to man; 
A lecture, silent, but of sovereign power, 
To vice, confusion ; and to virtue, peace ! 
Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, 
Virtue alone has majesty in death; 
And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. 
At that black hour, which general horror sheds 
On the low level of the' inglorious throng, 
Sweet peace, and heavenly hope, and humble joy, 
Divinely beam on his exalted soul : 
Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies. 



DEATH DESIRABLE TO THE AGED. 

But was death frightful, what has age to fear ? 
If prudent, age should meet the friendly foe, 
And shelter in his hospitable gloom. 
I scarce can meet a monument but holds 
My younger : every date cries el Come away !" 
And what recalls me ? look the world around, 
And tell me what : the wisest cannot tell. 

With me, the time is come; my world is dead: 
A new world rises, and new manners reign: 
What a pert race starts up ! the strangers gaze, 
And I at them ; my neighbour is unknown. 



310 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 



TRUTH. 

Give conscience leave to speak ; 

For it will speak ere long — O hear it now, 

While useful its advice, its accent mild. 

Truth is deposited with man's last hour ; 

An honest hour, and faithful to her trust. 

Truth eldest daughter of the Deity ; 

Truth, of his council when he made the worlds, 

Nor less when he shall judge the worlds he made, 

Though silent long, and sleeping ne'er so sound, 

Than from her cavern in the soul's abyss, 

The goddess bursts in thunder and in flame, 

" Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die." 



THE POWER OF EXAMPLE. 

Present example gets within our guard, 

And acts with double force, by few repell'd. 

Ambition fires ambition ; love of gain 

Strikes like a pestilence, from breast to breast; 

And inhumanity is caught from man to man, 

From smiling man. A slight, a single glance. 

And shot at random, often has brought home 

A sudden fever to the throbbing heart, 

Of envy, rancour, or impure desire. 

We see, we hear with peril ; safety dwells 

Remote from multitude ; the world's a school 

Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around! 

We must or imitate, or disapprove ; 

Must list as their accomplices, or foes ; 

That stains our innocence ; this wounds our peace. 

From nature's birth, hence, wisdom has been smit 

With sweet recess, and languished for the shade. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 311 



LITTLE ATTENTION PAID TO THE WARN- 
INGS OF DEATH. 

Is Death, that ever threatening, ne'er remote, 
That all-important, and that only sure, 
(Come when he will) an unexpected guest ? 
Nay, though invited by the loudest calls 
Of blind imprudence, unexpected still ? 
Though numerous messengers are sent before 
To warn his great arrival. What the cause, 
The wondrous cause, of this mysterious ill I 
All heaven looks down astonish'd at the sight. 



UNIVERSAL POWER OF DEATH. 



Gay trifler, dost thou wrap thy soul 



In soft security, because unknown 

Which moment is commission'd to destroy ? 

In death's uncertainty thy danger lies. 

Is death uncertain ? therefore thou be hVd ; 



ue nx a ; 
Fix'd as a sentinel, all eye, all ear, 



• 

All expectation of the coming foe. 
Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear, 
Lest slumber steal one moment o'er thy soul, 
And fate surprise thee nodding. W 7 atch, be strong, 
Thus give each day the merit and renown 
Of dying well, though doom'd but once to die. 
Nor let life's period hidden (as from most) 
Hide too from thee, the precious use of life. 



312 POETICAL EXTRACTS, 



EXALTED STATION. 



What is station high ? 



'Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts, and begs ; 

It begs an alms of homage from the throng, 

And oft the throng denies its charity. 

Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth ; 

Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 

Can place or lessen us or aggrandize ? 

Pigmies are pigmies still, though perch'd on Alps, 

And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 

Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? 

That pride defames humanity, and calls 

The being mean, which stuffs or strings can raise. 



VIRTUE AND PIETY. 

" Are virtue, then, and piety the same ?" 

Ho : — piety is more ; 'tis virtue's source ; 

Mother of ev'ry worth, as that of joy. 

With piety begins all good on earth ; 

Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies; 

Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good, 

A feign'd affection bounds her utmost power : 

Some we can't love, but for the Almighty's sake ; 

A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man. 

On piety, humanity is built; 

And, on humanity much happiness ; 

And yet still more on piety itself, 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 313 



RESOURCES OF A DEJECTED MIND. 

Art thou dejected ? is thy mind o'ercast ? 

Thy gloom to chase, go, fix some weighty truth ; 

Chain down some passion ; do some generous good ; 

Teach ignorance to see ; or grief to smile ; 

Correct thy friend ; befriend thy greatest foe ; 

Or, with warm heart, and confidence divine, 

Spring up, and lay strong hold on Him who made thee. 

Retire and read thy Bible to be gay ; 
There truths abound of sov'rejgn aid to peace : 
Ah ! do not prize them less, because inspired ; 
If not inspired, that pregnant page had stood, 
Time's treasure I and the wonder of the wise J 



THE LAST DAY. 

Great day ! for which all other days were made ; 

For which earth rose from chaos ; man from earth ; 

And an eternity, the date of gods, 

Descended on poor earth-created man ! 

Great day of dread, decision, and despair! 

At thought of thee each sublunary wish 

Lets go its eager grasp, and drops the world ; 

And catches at each reed of hope in heav'n. 

Already is begun the grand assize 

In us, in all : deputed conscience scales 

The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom ; 

Forestalls ; and by forestalling, proves it sure. 

Who conscience sent, her sentence will support, 

And God above assert that God in man. 



314 POETICAL EXTRACTS 



THE 

UNREASONABLENESS OF COMPLAINT. 

All, all is right, by God ordain'd, or done ; 

And who, but God, resumed the friends he gave? 

And have I been complaining, then, so long ? 

Complaining of his favours ; pain, and death ? 

Who without pain's advice would e'er be good ? 

Who, without death, but would be good in vain? 

Pain is to save from pain ! all punishment 

To make for peace ! and death to save from death ; 

And second death to guard immortal life ; 

To rouse tlie careless, the presumptuous awe, 

And turn the tide of souls another way ; 

By the same tenderness divine ordain'd, 

That planted Eden, and high-bloom'd for man, 

A fairer Eden, endless in the skies. 



CONTEMPLATION OF THE HEAVENS. 

Divine Instructor ! thy first volume, this, 

For man's perusal ; all in capitals ! 

In moon and stars (heaven's golden alphabet!) 

Emblazed to seize the sight ; who runs may read ; 

Who reads, can understand : 'tis unconfined 

To Christian land or Jewry ; fairly writ, 

In language universal, to mankind ; 

A language, lofty to the learn'd ; yet plain 

To those that feed the flock or guide the plough : 

A language worthy the great Mind that speaks ! 

Preface and comment to the sacred page ! 

Stupendous book of wisdom, to the wise ! 

Stupendous book ! and open'd, Night ! by thee. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 315 



THE MISERY OF SIN. 

O thou, ambitious of disgrace alone ! 
Rank coward to the fashionable world ! 
Art thou ashamed to bend thy knee to heaven r 
Not all those luminaries, quench'd at once, 
Were half so sad as one benighted mind, 
Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 
How like a widow in her weeds, the night, 
Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits ! 
How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps 
Perpetual dews, and saddens nature's scene ! 
A scene more sad sin makes the darken'd soul ; 
All comfort kills, nor leaves one spark alive. 



SOLITUDE. 



O sacred Solitude ! divine retreat ! 
Choice of the prudent ! envy of the great ! 
By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade, 
We court fair wisdom, that celestial maid: 
The genuine offspring of her loved embrace 
(Strangers on earth !) are innocence and peace : 
There, from the ways of men laid safe ashore, 
W T e smile to hear the distant tempest roar ; 
There, blest with health, with business unperplex'd, 
This life we relish, and ensure the next. 



316 POETICAL EXTRACTS 



THE PIOUS PETITION. 

Grant I may ever, at the morning ray, 
Open with prayer the consecrated day ; 
Tune thy great praise, and bid my soul arise, 
And with the mounting sun ascend the skies ! 
And, oh, permit the gloom of solemn night 
To sacred thought may forcibly invite. 
Teach me, with equal firmness, to sustain 
Alluring pleasure, and assaulting pain. 
O may I pant for Thee in each desire, 
And with strong faith foment the holy fire ! 
Stretch out my soul in hope, and grasp the prize 
Which in Eternity's deep bosom lies ! 
At the great day of recompence behold, 
Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold ! 
Then, wafted upward to the blissful seat, 
From age to age my grateful song repeat; 
My Light, my Life, my God, my Saviour see, 
And rival angels in the praise of Thee J 



REFLECTIONS ON A FUTURE STATE, FROM 
A REVIEW OF WINTER. 

'Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latent glooms, 

And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. 

How dead the vegetable kingdom lies! 

How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends 

His desolate domain. Behold, fond man ! 

See here thy pictured life : pass some few years, 

Thy flowering spring, thy summer's ardent strength, 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 317 

Thy sober autumn fading into age, 

And pale concluding winter comes at last, 

And shuts the scene. Ah ! whither now are fled 

Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes 

Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? 

Those restless cares ? those busy bustling days ? 

Those gay-spent, festive nights ? those veering thoughts 

Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life? 

All now are vanish'd ! Virtue sole survives ; 

Immortal never-failing friend of man, 

His guide to happiness on high. 

Ye good distress'd ! 
Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, 
And what your bounded view, which only saw 
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more : 
The storms of wintry time will quickly pass, 
And one unbounded spring encircle all. 



ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

If ev'ry rule of equity demands 

That vice and virtue, from th' Almighty's hands 

Should due rewards and punishments receive, 

And this by no means happens whilst we live; 

It follows, that a time must surely come 

When each shall meet their well adjusted doom : 

Then shall this scene, which now to human sight 

Seems so unworthy Wisdom infinite, 

A system of consummate skill appear, 

And ev'ry cloud dispersed, be beautiful and clear. 

Doubt we of this ? What solid proof remains, 

That o'er the world a wise Disposer reigns ? 



318 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 

Whilst all creation speaks a power divine, 
Is it deficient in the main design ? 
Not so : the day shall come (pretend not now, 
Presumptuous, to inquire or when, or how, 
But) after death shall come th' important day, 
When God to all his justice shall display ; 
Each action with impartial eyes regard, 
And in a just proportion punish and reward. 



SUICIDE. 



Hold, rash man ! think, O think ; 
And, ere thou plunge into the vast abyss, 
Pause on the verge awhile : look down and see 
Thy future mansion. Why that start of horror ? 
From thy slack hand why drops th* uplifted steel ? 
Didst thou not think such vengeance must await 
The wretch that, with his crimes all fresh about him, 
Rushes irreverent, unprepared, uncalFd, 
Into his Maker's presence ? 



HYMN TO HUMANITY. 

Parent of virtue ! if thine ear 
Attend not now to Sorrow's cry ; 

If now the pity-streaming tear 

Should haply on thy cheek be dry ; 
Indulge my votive strain, O sweet Humanity. 

Come, ever welcome to my breast ! 
A tender, but a cheerful guest. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 319 

O never let me cease to know 
The pulse that throbs at joy or woe, 
Nor let my vacant cheek be dry 
When sorrow fills a brother's eye. 

If the fair star of fortune smile, 
Let not its flattering power beguile ; 
Nor, borne along the fav'ring tide, 
My full sails swell with bloating pride; 
Let me from wealth but hope content, 
Remembering still it was but lent ; 
To modest merit spread my store, 
Unbar my hospitable door ; 
Nor feed for pomp an idle train, 
While want unpitied pines in vain. 

If heaven, in every purpose wise, 
The envied lot' of wealth denies; 
If doom'd to drag life's painful load 
Through poverty's uneven road; 
To thee, Humanity, still true, 
I'll wish the good I cannot do ; 
And give the wretch, that passes by, 
A soothing word — a tear — a sigh. 

for that sympathetic glow 
Which taught the holy tear to flow, 
When the prophetic eye survey 'd 
Sion in future ashes laid ; 

Or, raised to heaven, implored the bread 

That thousands in the desert fed ! 

It comes : it fills my labouring breast; 

1 feel my beating heart oppress'd. 

Oh 1 hear that lonely widow's wail ! 
See her dim eye ! her aspect pale ! 



520 POETICAL EXTRACTS, 

To heaven she turns in deep despair, 
Her infants wonder at her prayer, 
And, mingling tears they know not why, 
Lift up their little hands, and cry. 
O God ! their moving sorrows see ! 
Support them, sweet Humanity ! 

Life, fill'd with griefs distressful train, 
For ever asks the tear humane. 
Assist them, hearts from anguish free ! 
Assist them, sweet Humanity ! 



RESIGNATION TO THE WILL OF GOD. 

Should fate command me to the farthest verge 

Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, 

Rivers unknown to song; when first the sun 

Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 

Flames on the' Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me ; 

Since God is ever present, ever felt, 

In the void waste as in the city full ; 

And where He vital spreads there must be joy. 

When e'en at last, the solemn hour shall come, 

And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 

I cheerful will obey ; there, with new powers. 

Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 

Where universal Love not smiles around — 

Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns : 

From seeming evil still educing good, 

And better thence again, and better- still, 

In infinite progression. — But I lose 

Myself in Him, in light ineffable ! 

Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 321 



THE FALL OF MAN. 



Forth from his Maker's hands man sprung to life, 

Fresh with immortal bloom ; no pain he knew, 

No fear of change, no check to his desires, 

Save one command. That one command, which stood 

'Twixt him and death, the test of his obedience, 

Urged on by wanton curiosity, 

He broke. There in one moment was undone 

The fairest of God's works. The same rash hand, 

That pluck'd in evil hour the fatal fruit, 

Unbarr'd the gates of hell, and let loose Sin 

And Death, and all the family of Pain, 

To prey upon mankind. 



INTEMPERANCE. 

In the' embattled plain, 
Though Death exults, and claps his raven wings, 
Yet reigns he not e'en there so absolute, 
So merciless, as in yon frantic scenes 
Of midnight revel and tumultuous mirth, 
Where in the' intoxicating draught conceaFd, 
Or couch'd beneath the glance of lawless love, 
He snares the simple youth, who, nought suspecting, 
Means to be bless'd — but finds himself undone. 

Down the smooth stream of life the stripling darts, 
Gay as the morn ; bright glows the vernal sky, 
Hope swells his sails, and passion steers his course^ — 
Safe glides his little bark along the shore 
Where Virtue takes her stand ; but if too far 
He launches forth, beyond discretion's mark, 

Y 



322 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 

Sudden the tempest scowls, the surges roar, 
Blot his fair day, and plunge him in the deep ; 
Torn immature from life's meridian joys, 
A prey to Vice, Intern p'rance, and Disease. 



HYMN ON THE SEASONS. 

These as they change, Almighty Father, these 
Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring 
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. 
Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; 
Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; 
And every sense and every heart is joy. 
Then comes thy glory in the Summer months, 
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun 
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year: 
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks, 
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. 
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, 
And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
In Winter awful thou ! with clouds and storms 
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, 
Majestic darkness! On the whirlwind's wing, 
Riding sublime, Thou bidd'st the world adore, 
And humblest nature with thy northern blast. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 323 

OMNIPRESENCE OF GOD. 

FROM PSALM CXXXIX. 

dread Jehovah! thy all-piercing eyes 
Explore the motions of this mortal frame, — 
Where'er I move, thy cares pursue my feet, 
Attendant. When I drink the dews of sleep, 
Stretch'd on my downy bed, and there enjoy 
A sw r eet forgetfulness of all my toils, 

Unseen, thy sov'reign presence guards my sleep, 
Wafts all the terrors of my dreams away, 
Soothes all my soul, and softens my repose. 
Then whither shall the rapid fancy run, 
Though in its full career, to speed my flight 
From thy unbounded presence, which, alone, 
Fills all the regions and extended space 
Beyond the bounds of nature ? Whither, Lord ! 
Shall my unrein'd imagination rove 
To leave behind thy Spirit? 
If mounted on my tow'ring thoughts I climb 
Into the heaven of heavens, I there behold 
The blaze of thy unclouded majesty! 

If I plunge 
Down to the gloom of Tartarus profound, 
There too I find thee. 

If, on the ruddy morning's purple wings 
Upborne, with indefatigable course 

1 seek the glowing borders of the east, 

Where the bright sun, emergent from the deeps, 
With his first glories gilds the sparkling seas, 
And trembles o'er the waves, e'en there thy hand 
Shall through the watery desert guide my course, 
And o'er the broken surges pave my way, 

Y°2 



324 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 

While on the dreadful whirls I hang secure, 
And mock the warring ocean. 
How dear, how rooted in my inmost soul 
Are all thy counsels, and the various ways 
Of thy eternal providence ! 

When I rise 
From my soft bed, and softer joys of sleep, 
I rise to thee. O Lord, explore my soul ! 
See if a flaw or stain of sin infects 
My guilty thoughts : then, lead me in the way 
That guides my feet to thy own heaven and thee. 



DEITY. 



A noble theme demands my sacred song, 
A theme beyond or man's or angel's tongue! 
But oh, alas ! unhallow'd and profane, 
How shall I dare to raise the heav'nly strain ? 
Do thou, who from the altar's living fire 
Isaiah's tuneful lips didst once inspire, 
Come to my aid, celestial Wisdom, come ; 
From my dark mind dispel the doubtful gloom : 
My passions still, my purer breast inflame, 
To sing that God from whom existence came ; 
Till heaven and nature in the concert join, 
And own the Author of their birth divine. 

First Cause of causes ! Sire supreme of birth ! 
Sole light of heaven! acknowledged life of earth ! 
Whose word from nothing call'd this beauteous whole, 
This wide expanded All from pole to pole ! 
Who shall prescribe the boundary to thee, 
Or fix the aera of eternity ? 

In him from whom existence boundless flows, 
Let humble faith its sacred trust repose : 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 325 

Assured, on his eternity depend, 
" Eternal Father ! and eternal Friend !" 
And, lost in adoration, breathe his praise ; 
High Rock of ages, ancient Sire of days! 

Exalted Power, invisible, supreme, 
Thou sov'reign, sole unutterable name ! 
As round thy throne thy flaming seraphs stand, 
And touch the golden lyre with trembling hand ; 
Transported with the ardours of thy praise, 
The holy! holy! holy! anthem raise! 
To them responsive, let creation sing, 
Thee, indivisible eternal King ! 



OMNIPRESENCE. 

Through the unmeasurable tracts of space, 
Go, Muse divine! and present Godhead trace! 
See where, by place uncircumscribed as time, 
He reigns extended, and he shines sublime! 
Shouldst thou above the heaven of heavens ascend, 
Couldst thou below the depth of depths descend, 
Could thy fond flight beyond the starry sphere 
The radiant morning's lucid pinions bear, 
There should his brighter presence shine confess'd, 
There his Almighty arm thy course arrest ! 
Couldst thou the thickest veil of night assume, 
Or think to hide thee in the central gloom ! 
Yet there, all patient to his piercing sight, 
Darkness itself would kindle into light: 
Not the black mansions of the silent grave, 
Nor darker hell, from his perception save ; 
What power, alas ! thy footsteps can convey 
Beyond the reach of omnipresent day ? 
On earth his footstool fix'd, in heaven his seat ; 
Enthroned he dictates, and his word is fate. 



326 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 

Then, sacred Muse, by the vast prospect fired, 
From Heaven descended, as by Heaven inspired ; 
His all-enlight'ning Omnipresence own, 
Whence first thou feel'st thy dwindling presence known, 
And bless the' Eternal, all-informing Soul, 
Whose sight pervades, whose knowledge fills the whole ! 



IMMUTABILITY. 

As the Eternal and Omniscient Mind, 
By laws not limited, nor bounds confined, 
Is always independent, always free, 
Hence shines confessed Immutability ! 
And He, all perfect, in himself contains 
Power self-derived, and from himself he reigns ! 
Knows no addition, yields to no decay, 
The blaze of incommunicable day ! 

Placed in this narrow clouded spot below, _ 
We darkly see around, and darkly know ! 
Religion lends the salutary beam, 
That guides our reason through the dubious gleam ; 
Till sounds the hour, when he who rules the skies 
Shall bid the curtain of Omniscience rise ! 
Shall dissipate the mists that veil our sight, 
And show his creatures — all his ways are right! 

Then, when astonish'd nature feels its fate, 
And fetter'd time shall know his latest date ; 
When earth shall in the mighty blaze expire, 
Heaven melt with heat, and worlds dissolve in fire ! 
The universal system shrink away, 
And ceasing orbs confess the' Almighty sway ! 
Immortal He, amidst the wreck secure, 
Shall sit exalted, permanently pure ! 
As in the sacred bush, shall shine the same, 
And from the ruin raise a fairer frame ! 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 327 



WISDOM. 



O thou, who, when the' Almighty form'd this all, 

Upheld the scale, and weigh'd each balanced ball; 

And as his hand completed each design, 

Number'd the work, and fix'd the seal divine ; 

O Wisdom infinite ! creation's soul, 

Whose rays diffuse new lustre o'er the whole, 

What tongue shall make thy charms celestial known ? 

What hand, fair Goddess ! paint thee but thy own? 

What though in nature's universal store 
Appear the wonders of almighty power ; 
Power, unattended, terror would inspire, 
Awed must we gaze, and comfortless admire. 
But when fair Wisdom joins in the design, 
The beauty of the whole result's divine ! 

Hence life acknowledges its glorious Cause, 
And matter owns its great Disposer's laws ; 
Hence in a thousand different models wrought, 
Now fix'd to quiet, now allied to thought ; 
Hence flow the forms and properties of things, 
Hence rises harmony, and order springs ; 
Else had the mass a shapeless chaos lay, 
Nor ever felt the dawn of Wisdom's day ! 

O gracious God, omnipotent and wise, 
Unerring Lord, and Ruler of the skies ! 
All-condescending, to my feeble heart 
One beam of thy celestial light impart ; 
I seek not sordid wealth, or glittering power ; 
O grant me Wisdom— and I ask no more. 



328 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 



PROVIDENCE. 

When man too long the paths of vice pursued, 

Thy hand prepared the universal flood ; 

Gracious, to Noah gave the timely sign, 

To save a remnant from the wrath divine ! 

One shining waste the globe terrestrial lay, 

And the ark heaved along the troubled sea ; 

Thou bad'st the deep his ancient bed explore, 

The clouds their wat'ry deluge pour'd no more [ 

The skies were clear'd — the mountain tops were seen, 

The dove pacific brought the olive green. 

On Ararat the happy Patriarch toss'd, 

Found the reeover'd world his hopes had lost ; 

Its precious freight the guardian ark display 'd, 

While Noah grateful adoration paid* 

Beholding in the many-tinctuTed bow 

The promise of a safer world below. 

Thou great Intelligence supreme, 

Sov'reign Director of this mighty frame, 
Whose watchful hand, and all observing ken, 
Fashions the hearts, and views the ways of men ; 
Whether thy hand the plenteous table spread, 
Or measure sparingly the daily bread ; 
Whether or wealth or honours gild the scene, 
Or wants deform, and wasting anguish stain; 
On thee let truth and virtue firm rely, 
Bless'd in the care of thy approving eye ! 
Know that thy Providence, their constant friend, 
Through life shall guard them, and in death attend ; 
With everlasting arms their cause embrace, 
And crown the paths of piety with peace. 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 329 



GOODNESS. 



Oh man, degenerate man ! offend no more I 

Go learn of brutes thy Maker to adore ! 

Shall these through ev'ry /tribe his bounty own, 

Of all his works ungrateful thou alone ! 

Deaf when the tuneful voice of mercy cries, 

And blind when sovereign Goodness charms the eyes I 

Mark how the wretch his awful name blasphemes, 

His pity spares — his clemency reclaims! 

Observe his patience with the guilty strive, 

And bid the criminal repent and live; 

Recall the fugitive with gentle eye, 

Beseech the obstinate he would not die! 

Amazing tenderness — amazing most, 

The soul on whom such mercy should be lost! 

But wouldst thou view the rays of goodness join 
In one strong point of radiance all divine, 
Behold, celestial Muse ! yon eastern light, 
To Bethlem's plain, adoring, bend thy sight ! 
Hear the glad message to the shepherds given, 
' Good will on earth to man, and peace in heaven !' 
Attend the swains, pursue the starry road, 
And hail to earth the Saviour and the God ! 

Redemption ! oh thou beauteous mystic plan! 
Thou salutary source of life to man ! 
What tongue can speak thy comprehensive grace ? 
What thought thy depths unfathomable trace ? 
When lost in sin our ruin'd nature lay, 
When awful justice claim'd her righteous pay ! 
See the mild Saviour bend his pitying eye, 
And stop the lightning just prepared to fly ! 
(O strange effect of unexampled love!) 
View him descend the heavenly throne above ; 



330 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 

Patient, the ills of mortal life endure, 

Calm, though reviled, and innocent, though poor! 

Uncertain his abode, and coarse his food, 

His life one fair continued scene of good ; 

For us sustain the wrath to man decreed, 

The victim of eternal justice bleed! 

Look ! to the cross the Lord of life is tied, 

They pierce his hands, and wound his sacred side! 

See God expires ! our forfeit to atone, 

While nature trembles at his parting groan ! 

Advance, thou hopeless mortal, steel'd in guilt, 
Behold, and, if thou canst, forbear to melt ! 
Shall Jesus die thy freedom to regain, 
And wilt thou drag the voluntary chain ? 
Wilt thou refuse thy kind assent to give, 
Wlien dying he looks down to bid thee live ? 
Perverse, wilt thou reject the proffer'd good, 
Bought with his life, and streaming in his blood ? 
Whose virtue can thy deepest crimes efface, 
Re-heal thy nature, and confirm thy peace ! 
Can all the errors of thy life atone, 
And raise thee from a rebel to a son! 

O blest Redeemer, from thy sacred throne, 
Where saints and angels sing thy triumphs won ! 
From that exalted height of bliss supreme, 
Look down on those who bear thy sacred name ; 
Restore their ways, inspire them by thy grace, 
Thy laws to follow, and thy steps to trace ; 
Thy bright example to thy doctrine join, 
And by their morals prove their faith divine ! 



POETICAL EXTRACTS. 331 



INVITATION. 



He?nCE, distant far, ye sons of earth profane, 
The loose, ambitious, covetous, or vain : 
But come, ye purer souls, from dross refined, 
The blameless heart and uncorrupted mind ! 
Let your chaste hands the holy altars raise, 
Fresh incense bring, and light the glowing blaze; 
Your grateful voices aid the Muse to sing 
The spotless justice of th' Almighty King ! 

'Tis in that awful all-disclosing day, 
When high Omniscience shall her books display; 
When Justice shall present her strict account, 
While Conscience shall attest the due amount, 
That all who feel, condemn'd, the dreadful nod, 
Shall own that righteous are the ways of God ! 

Oh then, while penitence can fate disarm, 
While lingering Justice yet withholds its arm; 
While heavenly patience grants the precious time, 
Let the lost sinner think him of his crime ; 
Immediate, to the seat of mercy fly, 
Nor wait to-morrow — lest to-night ye die! 

And you, ye happier souls ! who in his ways 
Observant walk, and sing his daily praise; 
Ye righteous few ! whose calm unruffled breasts 
No fears can darken, and no guilt infests ; 
Ye sons of life, to whose glad hope is given 
The bright reversion of approaching heaven, 
With grateful hearts his glorious praise recite, 
Whose love from darkness call'd you out to light ; 
So let your piety reflective shine, 
As men may thence confess his truth divine ! 
And when this mortal veil, as soon it must, 
Shall drop, returning to its native dust/ 
The work of life with approbation done, 
Receive from God your bright immortal crown. 



3:32 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 



GLORY. 

But oh ! advent'rous Muse, restrain thy flight, 
Dare not the blaze of uncreated Light ! 
Before whose glorious throne with dread surprise, 
The' adoring seraph veils his dazzled eyes; 
Whose pure effulgence, radiant to excess, 
No colours can describe, or words express ! 

Transcendent Power ! sole arbiter of fate ! 
How great thy glory! and thy bliss how great! 
To view from thy exalted throne above, 
(Eternal source of light, and life, and love !) 
Unnumber'd creatures draw their smiling birth, 
To bless the heav'ns, or beautify the earth ; 
While systems roll, obedient to thy view, 
And worlds rejoice — which Newton never knew. 

Great Lord of life ! from whom this humble frame 
Derives the power to sing thy holy name, 
Forgive the lowly Muse, whose artless lay 
Has dared thy sacred attributes survey ! 
Delighted oft through nature's beauteous field, 
Has she adored thy wisdom bright reveal'd ; 
Oft have her wishes aim'd the secret song, 
But awful rev'rence still withheld her tongue. 
Yet as thy bounty lent the reas'ning beam, 
As feels my conscious breast thy vital flame, 
So, blest Creator, let thy servant pay 
His mite of gratitude this feeble way ; 
Thy Goodness own, thy Providence adore, 
And yield thee only — what was thine before. 




POETICAL EXTRACTS. 333 



THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 



Thy Justice, heavenly King ! and that great day, 
When Virtue, long abandon'd and forlorn, 
Shall raise her pensive head ; and Vice, that erst 
Rang'd unreproved and free, shall sink appall'd; 

I sing advent'rous 

I raise 

My feeble voice to tell what harmony 

(Sweet as the music of the rolling spheres) 

Attunes the moral world : that Virtue still 

May hope her promised crown; that Vice may dread 

Vengeance, though late ; that reas'ning Pride may own 

Just, though unsearchable, the ways of Heaven ! 

Sceptic ! whoe'er thou art, who say'st the soul, 
That divine particle which God's own breath 
Inspired into the mortal mass, shall rest 
Annihilate : tell then, why in each breast 
Is placed a friendly monitor, that prompts, 
Informs, directs, encourages, forbids? 
Tell, why on unknown evil grief attends, 
Or joy on secret good ? Why conscience acts 
With tenfold force when sickness, age, or pain 
Stands tott'ring on the precipice of death ? 
Or why such horror gnaws the guilty soul 
Of dying sinners, while the good man sleeps 
Peaceful and calm, and with a smile expires? 

Shall good and ill *• 

Be carried undistinguish'd to the land 
Where all things are forgot ? Ah, no ! the day 
W 7 ill come when Virtue from the clouds shall burst, 
That long obscured her beams ; when Sin shall fly 



334 POETICAL EXTRACTS. 

Back to her native hell ; there sink eclipsed 
In penal darkness ; where nor star shall rise, 
Nor ever sunshine pierce the' impervious gloom. 

On that great day the solemn trump shall sound; 
The' unpeopled graves shall pour forth all their dead. 

All at once shall rise, 

But not to equal glory ; for, alas 1 

With howlings dire, and execrations loud, 

Some wail their fatal birth. 

No hope have they from black despair, no ray 

Shines through the gloom to cheer their sinking souls. 

These on the left are ranged : but on the right, 

Here is that fav'rite band, whom mercy mild, 

God's best-loved attribute, adorn'd; whose gate 

Stood ever open to the stranger's call ; 

Who fed the hungry ; to the thirsty lip 

Reach'd out the friendly cup ; whose care benign 

From the rude blast secured the pilgrim's side ; 

Who heard the widow's tender tale, and shook 

The galling shackle from the prisoner's feet; 

Who each endearing tie, each office knew 

Of meek-eyed, heaven-descended Charity. 

Such is that awful, that tremendous day, 
Whose coming who shall tell ? For as a thief, 
Unheard, unseen, it steals with silent pace 
Through night's dark gloom. Perhaps as here I sit, 
And rudely carol these incondite lays, 
Soon shall the hand be check'd^ and dumb the mouth 
That lisps the faltering strain. O may it ne'er 
Intrude unwelcome on an ill spent hour ; 
But find me wrapt in meditations high, 
Hymning my great Creator! 

" Power Supreme ! 

O everlasting King ! to thee 1 kneel, 

To thee I lift my voice. With fervent heat 




POETICAL EXTRACTS. 335 

Melt, all ye elements! And thou, high heaven, 
Shrink like a shrivel'd scroll ! But think, O Lord, 
Think on the best, the noblest of thy works ; 
Think on thine own bright image ! Think on Him 
Who died to save us from thy righteous wrath; 
And "midst the wreck of worlds remember man !" 



THE END. 



C. and C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. 






L>X> >X>; "> J> 



> 2 3 3>^J 
J> > 3 2 J* 



■5 o^ 



> "3> > I>-2>^ 

> » :j> _ :> x> j. 
> » : 

s> 2 » 

-j> s> J> 12 Tfti 



i>~5J>J 



>3>2 



^> 2> 2J 


V 




■>:!> -d 


■* 




03)). 


s 


•» 


>J>JB&SJ. 


1 


B* 


> 3> 32* 


■ 


l» 


)>3> 2L 


:» 


» 


x2Z?»'2^ 


X 


»' 


^ >3> 2 . 


31 


■? 




1 






^ a* < 




^S&fi - 




V^o* 


3 


^> sOP 


^ 


^)-5)l> 


2 



2»2> 
■tOS e> 

2 I^> 









► OJ22 
2 2> 



5 


> 




>2 




m 


> 


» 


3 


;> '^ ; 




t>."2 


» 


5t> 


» 


J>;> 




D3 


» 


^O 



3^2 - 



3^> 



S5> 



SE>J> > 



2>:> 



5 2 X> 

2i>2£ 



:>. ;> 2 
2 > _> 



5®>3 .2 -~? * 






Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Dec. 2004 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 






^»>J> 






>-><tf 


^^ . i m* .J 




_^^ _j ■ it 


^S 


» ;-L^> 


ji 


► _> g» 


,^i 


> "d^>> 


jj 


► ;> >> 


^^ 


\g>> 


^M 


.>•■> 


«=? 


OB» 


^X> 


> ■-•> j 


^L^ 


>:»-> 


~38> 


> :> J 


>7>:> 


>'3DO 


3> 


» > 


yj>z> 


JOK> 


^i> 


;» :> 


>3>Z> 


oeo 


y> 


J>> 2> f 


>3>J> 


\») 


3> 


:» >> 


J>Z> 


v '^£» 


J> 


i> i> 


> > .> 






^ < 


> .:» 


>-> » 




r*-^ 


> _3 


Oj _J> 


> 


> > i 


\? ^ 


>^ 3> 


:> > J 


> I> ' 


> S> _T> 


e» j> 


L> > ' 


:> ~.^» 


> ) ^ 


l>>; 3> 


r» >> ; 


< < 









'■> ^1J>>3 






> ."»- 


a> 






^ ->J> ^ 


> 3>> 

»23 


:> 




> XSM 




-T 


^*> 3D 


>^> i>^ 


► >X>2 




->v --* 


Jo ^> 


X>^y^L 






> > 







^P^£j> 



^^^^ 5 ^ l» Jk 3^ 



> 
> 


3>35> 




2fc ^» 


^g3> 


3> 2) 


^>^-^. - 


» j> 


=i^<^ 


X> .) 


^s^L ^ t ^> »: 


> 

> 
3 










^3-3^ <y 



^^>^S^ y 



^►^> :» 






^^>^^>S> ^S) 



' 2> -> " 









^m-m^^m^s. 









mm 



